Always Answer The Phone
by Disco-Wing
Summary: You know, you never really notice what you have til it's gone. Everyone's trust, that's what I lost...but please, answer the phone...I'm sorry...
1. A Song Called Loneliness

He was sitting on the cold tile of his bathroom floor, watching as the blade in his hand stained the floor red. His left arm had been the victim tonight, an innocent bystander attacked by his depression.

The sting of the wounds had long since faded. But yet, Dick was still there, sitting on the cold floor. He knew he had to get up. He had things to do, people to call...but he just couldn't move.

Dick tried to focus on the pain in his arm, but it was gone. The only thing that was real was gone. He glanced down at the cuts, there were seven of them. He knew this because he counted each one he made. This morning hadn't started off well for him, and he ended up cutting deeper than usual. They'd have to be bandaged before he left.

Dick let out a defeated sigh as he slowly dragged himself to his feet. He moved towards the sink and turned on the water. He let it run for a moment to warm up before sticking his arm underneath the water and rinsing away the blood. Even the water didn't bring any pain. Not even a little sting. He was numb, emotionally and physically. Just _Numb._

He let his mind wander as he cleaned himself up. When was the last time he heard from any friends? When was the last time someone actually answered his calls?

A buzzing sound from the other room brought him back to reality. Turning off the faucet and wrapping his arm in a towel, he made his way towards his living room. The buzzing led him to his phone, hidden between the couch cushions.

He unlocked the device and looked at the notification. Maybe it was one of his friends? Maybe they needed something?

It was an old reminder he set. Said he needed to be at the Mountain by 11 am to update the computer.

He locked his phone, dropped it onto the couch, and glanced at the clock behind him. 10:47am. Dick let out a small huff and quickly bandaged his arm. He picked his suit up off the ground and quickly put it on. He ran to his bedroom and grabbed a spare burner phone from his dresser. Looking at the clock again, he climbed out the window and closed it. He didn't bother with the lock. He hadn't used it in weeks, and it's not like he had anything expensive to lose anyway.

He shimmied down the fire escape and dropped into the alley below. He glanced around for a bit, making sure he wasn't being followed, before heading to the nearest zeta tube. 10:57am.

* * *

His name echoed throughout the mountain as he entered. He was greeted by silence. Nobody from the team came to say hello. He silently made his way toward the platform to open the computer. He didn't need to update much. Just run a brief scan for viruses and change a few passwords.

It'd been about fifteen minutes, give or take, before the team started to trickle into the room. Not that Nightwing was counting or anything. They probably just wanted to know what he was doing here. After all, he hadn't been to the cave in months. If they'd have answered their phones, they would've already known the answer.

Conner stepped forward in front of the group, fists balled up in anger, "What are you doing here?" he sneered, and for a second, Dick thought Conner would attack him.

Without looking up from the screen, Dick replied curtly, "I left fifteen messages. If you don't know why I'm here, then that's your own fault."

As he'd guessed, none of them liked his answer. Conner growled at him, Lagoon Boy glared, Impulse looked at his feet, and Meghan was looking everywhere except at him. But Robin, sweet, sweet Timmy. His little brother huffed and walked out of the room. What does that say about him that even his own little brother hated him?

Nightwing was expecting Conner to yell at him again. Yell about how he lied to them, how he didn't trust them. How he never trusted them to begin with. How he should have told them about his plan, and how he should have created a different one. Even blame him for Wally's death. But before Conner could open his mouth, Lagoon Boy spoke up.

"What are you even doing here Nightwing? Can't you see that nobody wants you here?" he raised his arm and gestured to the anger and hate-filled gazes of the team. "I mean, even Robin doesn't want to see you. Why don't you take the hint and just leave."

Nightwing stopped typing and shut down the computer. He felt frozen. He slowly turned and watched the team for a moment, his face devoid of any emotion, before he started to walk towards the zeta tubes. Passing the team without sparing them a single glance, he typed his destination into the zeta tube. He could hear the team turning to watch him, probably wondering why he didn't answer.

Nightwing wanted to answer, he really did. But he didn't know what to say. What did they want to hear? An apology? He'd already tried that and none of them would listen. Did they want him to explain? He'd already tried that too. The zeta beam was ready, all he had to do was walk into it. He turned to the team one last time and spoke.

"I guess this means you'll need to find someone else to fix your computers from now on. I've lived through enough to know when I'm not wanted anymore. And Robin, I hope you know I can see you hiding in the corner. If you have something to say to me...just say it." Nightwing paused and waited as Robin made his way to the group. With every step Robin took, Dick's heart pounded even harder in his chest. He never thought it was possible, but he felt his heart shatter at the words Tim spoke.

"You should've jumped after them...you should've fallen with them. Don't bother coming back to the Batcave either," he paused for a moment, "I changed the codes."

Dick was shocked. He never knew Tim could be so cruel. To say that he should've died with his parents...how does he reply to that? Dick could feel his emotions starting to rise. Anger, guilt, shame. But what he felt the most was...empty. He needed to leave, get back to his apartment. Get away from all the judging, hateful eyes of his _former_ friends.

He turned sharply. "I understand," he added, and walked into the light, Robin's words playing on repeat in his head, and vanished.

* * *

 **Hello everyone! Here's my new story! Let me know what you think about it. I'm probably going to update this one once a week. Thanks to McKennaC who helped Beta this chapter.**

 **Please review, tell me what you liked, what you'd like to see, etc.**

 **Well till next time,**

 **Rachel**


	2. Two Lies, One Truth

Only a few minutes after Nightwing left the cave, Wally sped into the room. He skidded to a halt, placing his hands on his knees. He was slightly bent forward and breathing heavily. The room was silent, only the faint echo of Nightwing's name and Wally's breathing could be heard in the hushed cavern. He coughed, clearing his throat and taking a few deep breaths.

"Was that Nightwing?" he asked the team, breathless.

Nobody answered him for a few minutes, their gazes focused on their feet and the floor below them. Wally didn't think too much of it. As his breath evened out, he asked the question again. This time it was Robin who replied.

"Yeah, you just missed him. He was popping in to check up on us, see how we're doing."

Wally had just gotten back from the speed force a few weeks ago and hadn't even seen his friend yet.

"Oh...why didn't he come say hi to me?" Wally asked. This was his best friend after all, so why didn't he come visit him? He was usually hanging around somewhere, hiding in the shadows. After all, it's not every day someone comes back from the dead.

"I guess he just didn't want to see you." Blue Beetle offered, eyes cast downward. "I mean, he didn't even mention you when we were talking."

"What? What do you mean he doesn't want to see me? That's just crazy, of course he does! I'm his best friend!" Wally practically shouted, throwing his arms into the air.

"No, Blue Beetles right." Conner interjected, "Wing's been kind of a dick lately, pushing everyone away. Not to mention that he hasn't been to the mountain in months before today." He crossed his arms over his chest, an angry scowl creeping across his face.

"Yeah," Robin added, "He hasn't even been answering my phone calls. It's totally inconvenient." The teen huffed, obviously annoyed.

"Well... Robin, can you tell me where he lives? I want to visit him. I'll find out why he's ignoring everyone." Wally stated, looking at Robin for an answer. Surely everyone missed their ninja-leader.

Robin shuffled his feet and glanced down before looking directly at Wally.

"Well, if you want to find him...he lives in Bludhaven. That's all I know. " Robin said. "He moved about a month ago and never told us his new address. So... good luck, I guess. You can get his number from Conner." He gave Wally a wave and started walking towards the zeta beam. "I need to head out, Batman and I have a case to finish. I'll see everyone tomorrow." He said as he walked into the tube.

"Okay. Well...guys, I'm going to head out to. I've got someone to find." Wally stated, zooming back to get his coat. He reappeared and started typing coordinates into the zeta. "I'm heading to Blüdhaven, I'll be back in a few hours."

"Are you sure you want to go?" a quiet voice spoke from behind. Wally turned around to see M'gann walking towards him, her face filled with what looked to be...nervousness?

He flashed her a quick grin and looked over the rest of the team. Wally finally took notice of the odd expressions on the faces of his friends. Anger, guilt, sadness. But why? What was wrong? He'd have to figure that out later. It probably had to do with what he was about to go fix, anyway.

"He might have made some really dumb decisions recently, but he's still my best friend and I care about him." Wally spoke before adding, "And if people are saying he's pushing everyone away, I'm going to find out why."

"Are you sure though? What if he hurts you when you find him? He has been different lately." M'gann plead. Well, it looked that way to Wally at least. What was going on? Why was the team acting like this?

Confused, Wally spoke with an irritated tone. "Hurt me? Nightwing would never do that! What even gave you that idea?" he demanded, voice slightly going up in volume.

He looked at the guilty expressions on the Team's face. Something wasn't right. He could feel it.

"I need to go. I'll be back later," and with that, he sent a glare to the Team and was gone in a flash of light.

* * *

Water pelted onto his back, turning the skin red from the harsh abuse. It had gone cold long ago, but he didn't care to turn it off. He'd been sitting on the shower floor for what felt like hours. Dick's eyes were red and puffy from all the crying he hadn't meant to do.

Nightwing was... strong.

He wasn't supposed to cry.

But none of that mattered because right now, he was Dick Grayson. Lonely, tired, and broken Dick Grayson, who hated himself more than anyone hated him.

He tightened his fist around the object in his hand, causing a small pain to course through his palm. Dick promised himself he would only cut a little. Although it seemed his promises meant nothing nowadays because he just kept breaking them. He watched unfeeling as the vital fluid dripped into the water below, staining it pink. Dick drew in a deep shuddering breath and folded himself into the fetal position.

Maybe he should just do what _Tim_ wanted. What _everyone_ wanted. They've already told him they wouldn't care if something happened to him, so why not grant them their wish?

Why not just _end_ it all?

The glares, the cruel words, and the constant _hatred_ he received from everyone. Why not just let it all go down the drain? _Why not?_ Nothing was stopping him anymore, he could _finally_ be _free._ Dick lifted the blade and placed it vertically onto his left arm. He took a deep breath, _'This is what everyone wants,'_ he thought sadly. His breath was starting to come out in small gasps now.

Dick's thoughts began to drift as he prepared himself. How long would it take them to notice? Would they come looking and find him lying here? Or maybe he'd just lie rotting in the tub and never be found. He honestly just didn't care which one happened anymore. It wouldn't make a difference either way.

Dick moved in the tub, getting into a better position. His legs were now laid out in front of him, and his arm rested on the side of the tub. The movement caused his back to release a sharp pain. His skin had turned a bright red from the _hours_ it spent under the blistering water. He let out a choked sob and squeezed his eyes shut. Hot tears began to roll down his cheeks again. Dick pushed the blade forcefully into his skin, causing blood to pool up around the cool steel. He let out a small yelp and grit his teeth together. All he had to do was pull his hand towards his chest. One quick movement and it would all be over. Everyone would be _happy_. But for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Dick jerked suddenly and dropped the blade, creating a small gash on his wrist. "What was that?" he whispered to himself. He shuffled around and leaned over the tub, pointing his ear towards the door. He could hear the small shrill of his phone through the locked door. _'A call,'_ he realized, _'Who could that be?'_

Dick listened silently and once the ringing stopped, he picked up the blade again, his hand trembling this time. He hesitated as he placed the metal on his skin, avoiding the already made gash. The wound had started to stain the water a cloudy pink. Blood beading up at the wound and slipping away.

Doubt began to creep into his mind as he watched his arm bleed. What if the call was important? What if somebody needed his help? He tried to push those thoughts away and finish what he started, but his worry got the better of him. Dick pulled himself up, a little unsteady on his feet. He climbed out of the shower and placed the blade gently onto the counter. He'd finish _that_ later. Dick grabbed a towel and wrapped himself in it. His body moved itself as he grabbed some bandages and clumsily wrapped his arm with shaking hands.

The bathroom door creaked quietly as it opened. Dick padded across the carpet and towards his bed, water still dripping from his body. He picked his phone up from the mattress and checked the notification.

 _Three new voicemails, ten missed calls, and thirteen new texts_

Dicks' eyes widened in surprise, _'Who?'_ he thought, tapping at the screen.

 _Unknown number_

 _'Well that's strange,'_ he thought, ' _only the Team has this number.'_ He tapped on the messages, quickly reading through a few as he collapsed onto the bed.

 _11:53am Dude_

 _12:32pm DUde_

 _1:15pm Hey_

 _3:00 pm Answer me_

 _3:10 pm Where do you live?_

 _4:30 pm Hello..._

 _4:32 pm Is it me you're looking for?_

 _5:40 pm Sorry. Come on man, answer already :/_ _Are you okay?_

Dick furrowed his eyebrows as he read. ' _Who is this?'_ he thought, frustration growing as he tried to figure it out. He dropped his phone onto the bed, running a hand through his hair. He glanced briefly at his alarm clock. 5:46pm. He needed to eat and get ready for patrol tonight. This mystery number would have to wait a few hours.

Dick went into his closet and fished out his Nightwing suit. It still had a few tears and holes in it from last night that he needed to fix. Nothing too serious, though. He pulled on a pair of boxers and threw on his suit, leaving the gloves off for now. He needed his hands to eat after all.

As he walked towards his kitchen, he let his eyes roam the many pictures he had hanging around his small apartment. Pictures from when he was still Robin, the happy boy that loved to play with words. Pictures from when the team began, a time when everyone trusted each other. He stopped walking and stared at a group photo of the Team. Everyone was smiling and laughing, a truly happy photo. Where did it all go wrong? He wish he knew. With Roy after he left? After he quit being Robin? Wally leaving?...Becoming Nightwing? He shook his head, ridding his brain of those thoughts and continued on. It would always be his fault.

Dick's kitchen was bare, except for few apples that rested on the counter alongside a few cereal boxes and a half loaf of bread. His fridge wasn't looking any better either. Everything in it was either molded or expired. _'Well, looks like I won't be cooking tonight.'_ He thought dryly. He scanned his options once more before deciding on toast and apples. At least he can't catch the kitchen on fire making that.

Dick finished his meal- if you could even call it that- fairly quickly. It wasn't that large after all. His clock beeped, informing him it was time to leave for patrol. He snuck out his window and slipped onto the fire escape, almost losing his balance in the process. Hopefully, he wouldn't run out of energy tonight. He had been feeling kinda weak lately. Probably caused by his change in appetite. He just hadn't been feeling as hungry lately. Although, he probably should head to the store soon. It wasn't a good idea to let any _'monsters'_ grow from the mold in the fridge. Dick closed his window, leaving it slightly cracked and shot off a grappling hook. He steadied himself and swung silently away into the night. ' _Time to catch some crooks.'_ he mused.

* * *

 **Wow, I'm back everybody! I hoped you liked the chapter! I'm sorry it took so long for me to post again. Life kinda got in the way.**

 **So what did you think? I _love_ reading your comments so _please_ leave some! Even if you just say one word, I love hearing what you guys think. **

**Til, next time**

 **Rachel**


	3. Stranger On The Bridge

Wally had run back to the cave around 7:30 pm to change into his Flash uniform. Barry had told him when he first got back that he'd earned the title of Flash after he fought his way out of the speed force. His new suit looked pretty awesome in his opinion. It was a deeper red -not as bright as Barry's- with white accents. He'd also decided to drop the yellow symbol and switch it to a bright white one. Wally had made sure his red hair would be able to flow freely in the wind as he ran.

He'd given up on trying to find Dick's apartment after the first few hours. Wally figured that if he couldn't find Dick, why not try to find Nightwing? Dick should be out patrolling by now, after all, he was a 'bat'. They always started things early. Well, at least he hoped he did.

Wally climbed to the rooftop of the closest building, taking in the sights -which wasn't much considering it was Bludhaven. He looked over the wretched city and wondered how Dick could stand living here. Smog from the factories clouded up the sky, making the city more disturbing than it already was. No stars were visible in the dark fog, and they probably never would be. A crisp November breeze blew over Wally, ruffling his hair. He shivered and crossed his arms over his chest. He missed the warmth of Central City. It's bright sunny days and the not-so-bad crooks. How could Dick stand living in such a disheartening city? The last time Wally came to here it looked a lot less depressing than it did now, so what happened?

He stood silently and watched as his foggy breath mingled into the chilly air. The Team was starting to make him worry. Why were they talking about Nightwing like that? Especially behind his back? Wally knew that Dick had told the Team his plans, but why were they still upset? What happened while he was 'dead'?

Flash watched the tops of the surrounding buildings, hoping to see Nightwing fly over one. Wally knew how much Dick loved to flip across them -He was his best friend after all. He could faintly remember Dick telling him once that grappling off the skyscrapers made him feel like he was flying. That it made Dick feel _free_ from _everything._ Wally hadn't understood what Dick meant back then and honestly, he still didn't.

The sound of a fight beneath him shifted his attention to a nearby. He glanced over the ledge to see what all the commotion was about. Three large men were ganging up on a small string bean of a man. Wally sighed, he really needed to find out what was wrong with Dick. He didn't have time to deal with these small quarrels.

The three thugs were circling the smaller man who was crouched down, trembling in a muddy corner. The largest -and ugliest- thug stepped forward. He was wearing a green flannel and looked like he just crawled out of a dumpster. The other two weren't in much better condition even though they were both wearing black. Wally swore he could smell them from his hiding place on the roof. He really hoped the police in Bludhaven gave showers to the criminals because if not, they were in for a real tear-jerking surprise.

The flannel wearing thug raised his knife, aiming right for the string beans head but before he could strike down, Flash sped down from the roof and slammed his fist right into his face. Wally felt the man's jaw bone shatter upon impact. So...maybe he hit just a little too hard. He wasn't used to the new strength that his escape provided him. The man crumpled to the ground along with his knife, which skidded across the wet pavement. The remaining two thugs stood shocked at Flash's sudden appearance but they quickly recovered. They each held up their weapon -a baseball bat and knife- and sent nervous glances to each other.

"Oi! Who the hell are you?" Stinky number one snarled at Flash, waving his bat around in the air, hoping to intimidate the red-clad man.

"I'm Flash," Wally said and gestured towards his red costume. "It's kind of obvious, ya'know...zoom zoom." He made a speedy motion with his hands, laughing internally at the thugs confused expressions.

"What're ya doing here? Flash doesn't belong in Bludhaven. Get out!" The second stinky shouted. Both of the criminals faces were starting to show signs of uncertainty. It was time for Wally to end this fight and get back to finding Dick.

Wally chuckled and placed his hands on his hips. "I may not belong in Bludhaven, but I do know that you belong in jail." he retorted.

"Get him!" The thugs growled out as they charged at Wally with their weapons aimed to kill.

Flash ducked underneath the wide swing of the bat and punched the first thug in the stomach. The man stumbled back and leaned heavily on his knees. However, before Flash could deliver the knockout blow, the second thug charged, his knife aiming to slice Wally's throat.

Wally decided that he'd had enough. No more playing around. He raced forward and grabbed the knife from the smelly man's hand. He twisted the man's arm to a painful angle behind his back and kneed him in the stomach. The man at his sudden loss of breath, leaned forward, gagging. Flash took this opportunity to knee the man in the face, reining him unconscious. The man fell to the ground with a loud thud. The last thug stared at Flash for a moment, his eyes like saucers and took off down the alleyway. Flash sighed and quickly ran to catch the man. By the time the police arrived the three thugs were tied to a lamp post and the skinny man was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

"Have you spoken to Nightwing recently?"

Tim looked up from the report he was writing, confused by the random question. He looked at Bruce, who had his cowl down and was typing away at the bat-computer.

"No, why?" Tim questioned, laying down his pen. Bruce still hadn't looked his way, and his fingers remained hovering above the keyboard.

"Just wondering," Bruce replied curtly. He hesitated in his typing and stood up. "I'm heading up, make sure you turn off the lights when you're finished." Bruce paused for a moment, "And don't forget to turn in your report." He added as he strolled towards the elevator.

Tim stared blankly at the cave wall. Why did Bruce leave so suddenly? Normally he hangs around the cave for hours after a big case. Tim picked up his pen and reread what he had written so far. It wasn't much, considering he was barely able to focus. He just couldn't get what he said to Dick out of his head. _'Maybe I was a little too harsh, changing the caves passwords.'_ he considered. _'I'll just change them back tomorrow.'_ He decided.

Tim stood from his chair and placed his unfinished report on the Batcomputer's chair. _'Whatever. I'll just finish it tomorrow morning.'_ he thought and headed up for the night.

* * *

Bruce's anger rose ever so slightly as he stood in the elevator. He knew that Tim had just lied to him, but it was the 'why' that was confusing him. Tim never lied to him. He expected things like that from Jason and Dick, not _Tim._

Bruce exited the elevator as soon as the doors opened -foregoing his usual grace- and hurriedly made his way towards his room, waving to Alfred as he passed.

"Will Master Tim be coming up as well?" the old butler questioned.

Bruce turned to face him, concealing the frustration in his voice, "As soon as he's finished his report. You can retire for the night if you wish to Alfred."

"That's quite alright Master Bruce, I will wait for Master Timothy to emerge. Sleep well." Alfred spoke warmly, a smile gracing his worn face.

"You too. Goodnight Alfred." Bruce smiled back and gracefully turned around.

"Goodnight Master Bruce."

Bruce listened to the sound of Alfred's footsteps fading down the hall as he turned a few corners and faced his room's doorway. He twisted the knob and stepped in, heading straight for his bathroom. As he brushed his teeth and got ready to settle down for the night, he thought up his to-do list and started to check off the accomplished tasks.

Bruce was almost halfway through when he realized he hadn't heard from his eldest in weeks. It was worrying, not hearing from Dick in so long. He usually called every few days. Bruce knew how Dick could occasionally slip into a small depression. It's been happening for years. It never got too bad or lasted long, but Dick would always call him when it happened. As of right now, with not hearing from Dick in a while, Bruce was starting to fear that it had happened again. He thought that with Wally being back and all, that Dick would start talking to him again. Apparently, he was wrong.

Bruce turned off the bathroom light slipped into his pajamas. _'Tomorrow,'_ he thought. _'I'll go check up on Dick tomorrow.'_ And with that final thought, he laid down on his bed and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The night had been fairly smooth so far, only a few attempted muggings here and there. _Attempted_ being the keyword. Nightwing had managed to stop them all, escaping with a few minor injuries. Nothing too serious, well, not what he considered serious anyway. Only some minor cuts and bruises, and a few cracked ribs. Although it was still more than what he would usually get in a night.

Nightwing was sitting on a rooftop that overlooked the Little Drawbridge, taking a quick break. He was thinking about heading home early tonight since everything was so calm. _'Might as well catch up on lost sleep_.' He watched the cars that drove by, some heading home, maybe some were even heading to work. Everyone consumed in their own little lives, their own worlds. The same routine day after day. Sometimes, Dick wished his life was like. Happy and carefree, where the worst thing he'd be fretting about would be his grades. Not his friend's death.

Dick observed the bridge silently, just breathing, thinking. His eyes followed a raven as it flew by the bridge. A glimmer of red grabbed his attention and he noticed something unusual on the bridge. A man was standing by the concrete wall, looking over the water.

Nightwing jumped to his feet and quickly shot his grapple line towards the bridge. He swung down and landed a few feet behind the man, who didn't even turn around. Nightwing spoke loudly before he'd even looked at the man.

"Sir, I know you're feeling hopeless, and I know you think it'll never get better, but I can guarantee you suicide is not the answer." He knew it was a bit ironic to say considering what he had done earlier, but it would at least catch the man's attention. It always did. They were always looking for a way out. _All but him, he at least deserved what he was getting._

Nightwing glanced up from putting away his grapple line in time to see the man turn around. To say he was shocked would be a lie. A beautiful lie.

The man was equally surprised by Nightwing's appearance, which was shown by the widening of his eyes, and appeared especially shocked when Nightwing abruptly turned away to leave.

"Nope. No way am I dealing with this right now. Good day sir." Nightwing spoke bluntly and turned away, trembling slightly. This was NOT happening. There was no possible way this could be happening. _'I must be hallucinating.'_ "I think I need to go sleep," he mumbled to himself.

"...Nightwing?"

Dick froze in his step and his breath caught in his throat. _No...nononono_. This isn't happening. He must be dreaming, it's all a hallucination. _He_ can't be here. Nightwing forced his heart down his throat and urged himself forward. To place one foot in front of the other. Dick started to sprint. He couldn't deal with this. He pulled out his grapple gun.

"...Dick?"

 _Leave. Run. Get as far away from here as possible._

"Wait! Where are you going!?"

 _Run._

He was on a roof now. _So close._ His hands were trembling and his breath was ragged and heavy. Dick was panicking now. Nightwing wasn't supposed to panic. He jumped off the edge of the roof and clumsily swung around another corner, nearly hitting a wall. _Leave._ Dick could still faintly hear the frantic shouts calling for him to wait drift through the air. He desperately searched the rooftop he'd landed on for a place to hide. Finding none, Dick ran over to a shadowed corner and curled up into a ball, hoping he wouldn't be noticed. _'Just go away, ignore me. I can't take this again. Please, just go away,'_ he thought anxiously and curled tighter into himself.

* * *

"Wait! Come back!" Wally shouted after Dick's fading figure. ' _What the hell, why is he running from me?'_ The speedster thought angrily.

He was just barely able to see Nightwing tuck himself away into a corner when he reached the roof. _'So now he's_ _trying to hide from me as well? What is going on?'_

"What the hell Dick, why are you running from me?" Wally practically yelled as he neared the cowering figure of his best friend. It was only when he approached did he notice how much Dick was trembling.

"...Dick, are you okay? What's wrong," Wally asked worriedly, and kneeled down, gently placing his hand on Nightwing's shoulder. Dick recoiled violently at the sudden contact, forcing Wally to drop his hand. Wally let his hand fall weakly to his side. ' _What's wrong?'_ he gaped at Nightwing, and desperately wished he had the answer. He'd never seen Dick act like this. Not even when he'd refused to get out of bed for days.

"What's wrong?" Dick spoke weakly, lifting his head up slightly. Wally gazed into the whites of Nightwing's mask, wishing he could see the blue eyes underneath. Then, maybe he could figure out what was going on. "What's wrong?" Dick's voice rose slightly, "What's wrong is that you're dead!" He shouted and uncurled himself, seizing a fistful of Flash's costume, causing Wally to lose his balance and fall to the muddy rooftop. "You're dead!" he roared and shook Wally, "I watched you disappear! I watched them bury an empty coffin. _Empty!"_ Dick's hold slackened and he weakly shook Wally, dropping his head to the speedster's chest. He breathed in heavily, struggling for air. "I watched them bury my best friend!" He released a small sob from his chest. "You shouldn't be here." Dick weakly choked out. "You shouldn't be here," he whimpered noiselessly to himself. _"You shouldn't be here."_

Wally sat dumbly, watching as his best friend crumbled to pieces in front of him. What was he supposed to do? The silent sobs soon turned into anguished cries, and Wally felt his heart twist in his chest. ' _Who did this to you? What happened?'_

"Shh Dickie, it's alright," Wally spoke soothingly, bringing his arms up to envelop Dick tightly. "I'm here. Didn't the Team tell you that?" He inquired softly. "I came back."

Dick only clutched Wally's costume tighter, another cry escaping his throat. "You're really here right? I'm not making this up?" he asked desperately, tucking his head further into Wally's chest.

"Hey, look at me," Wally vocalized, "Look at me." Wally reached down to Dick's face, gently pulling off his mask. His eyes were a splotchy red from the tears that now rolled openly down his cheeks, and the bags beneath them were made prominent by his reddening skin. Dick looked terrible. "Look at me, I'm real. Why wouldn't I be?" Wally smiled down at Dick, who's breathing had finally slowed down. "I'm real."

But the longer he held Dick, Wally kept wondering the same thing.

 _'Did they not tell Dick I was alive?'_

* * *

 **Hello! I'm back with a new chapter! Hurry!** **I hope you like it!**

 **I would like to inform you all that I'm not very good at writing fight scenes, but I'm trying to get better. If you have any suggestions on how to improve, I'd love to hear them.**

 **So let me know what you think of the chapter. Did you expect this to happen? Is this what you wanted to happen? What do you want to happen? What are your thoughts? Let me know :)**

 **Till next time,**

 **Rachel**


	4. What Was The Point?

Wally was mad. No, he was more than mad. He was _fuming, seething_ even. He'd managed to get Dick back home and into bed -with much convincing that he would still be here upon him waking- and sat down to process everything. _'Did Dick really have that little faith in him? To think that he would leave him alone after what just happened.'_

Wally was sat quietly at Dick's kitchen table, staring blankly at the wall across from him. Every once in a while his face would be illuminated by the glow of his phone lighting up. Messages from the Team he assumed, but never checked. He didn't want to talk to them now. They weren't ready to hear what he had to say.

Should he call Bruce? Or did he already know and do nothing? It was too early for him to be asleep and too late for him to be off patrol. Should he leave a message? Even after tonight's break down Wally didn't know how bad Dick had _really_ gotten. He could only hope it wasn't what he thought. Even if all the signs were there, judging him with their blank stares.

Empty spots on the walls where pictures once hung, a bare kitchen, and his unnaturally _clean_ apartment. Wally let out a defeated sigh and rubbed his hands across his face. He should really call Bruce.

Resting one cheek in his palm, he reached down and dialed the familiar number. The phone went straight to voicemail. Wally sighed again and waited for the beep.

"Hey, Bruce? It- it's Wally." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, "It's Dick. He's bad, like, _real_ bad. I don't know if he's- I'm gonna try to find out in the morning. If you can, try to get here as soon as possible. I don- I don't know what else to do…" Wally was cut off as the limit was reached. He hoped Bruce got his message soon.

* * *

The soft sounds of dishes clinking together woke him from his rather peaceful slumber. Dick peaked open his eyes slowly, allowing them time to adjust to the light. _'Who's in my kitchen?'_ was the first thing he thought when he sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Fuzzy black dots invaded his vision as he stood up, forcing him to sit once more, or risk falling on his face.

While he waited for his vision to clear, Dick tried to focus on last night. Was it a dream, or did it really happen? If it was real, it would explain the strange noises currently coming from his kitchen. _'But what if it wasn't?'_ A little voice rang in the back of his head. _'What if it wasn't?'_

Deciding the only way to figure it out would be to check, Dick got up and made his way towards the door, resting his shaking hand on the knob. He stared at his hand for a few minutes, hesitating. What if it really was Wally? What would he do? What would he say? He couldn't face him like this, unprepared as he was. It would only cause a repeat of last night, and he didn't want that to happen again. Reassuring himself that he'd open it soon, Dick backed away and went into his bathroom, grabbing a pair of clothes on the way.

He'd be lying if he said he recognized the face in the mirror. Big black bags rested underneath dull, tired eyes. Skin, pale and thin from lack of sunlight and proper nourishment. Bruises, a dull purple and green, littered his jaw and cheek. All and all, he looked dead, and honestly, Dick felt dead. _'And maybe that can still be arranged,'_ the little voiced cooed. _'No,'_ Dick thought, _'Not yet.'_

 _'Maybe later'_

Ignoring the mirror, Dick quickly brushed his teeth and threw on sweatpants and long sleeved shirt. If it really was Wally out there, he didn't want him to see anything. Dick had, after all, promised him that he'd never cut himself. _'And look where that promise went,'_ The little voice added, _'right out the window.'_ Dick brushed the voice away and walked back to his bedroom door, placing his hand on the knob once again. He sucked in a deep breath, it was time.

Dick turned the knob slowly, and peaked through the small crack, glancing into his living room. It was empty. Dick released a breath he didn't know he was holding and opened the door all the way. He crept cautiously through the room, avoiding the squeaky floorboards and loose paper. The room wasn't dirty by any means, but it wouldn't be considered spotless either. Although, it was cleaner than how he usually kept it.

The kitchen was connected to the living room by a small, simple doorway. The smell of freshly brewed coffee flowed freely into the room as Dick paused by the couch, listening. The quiet murmur of voices told Dick that someone else was in his kitchen as well. As to who it was, he couldn't guess. Who would Wally call? Actually, who could he call? As of right now, everyone Dick knew hated him.

With this new discovery, instead of walking through the door as he'd originally planned, Dick slid along the wall and peaked inside the entryway.

Bruce. It was Bruce. There he was, casually sitting at his kitchen table, having a cup of coffee with Wally. _'Wally told on you'_ the little voice hissed, _'He brought **him** here.'_ Dick whipped his head back and rested it on the wall as he attempted to calm himself. Wally he could deal with, but Bruce? Bruce would see right through his act and then he'd be forced to talk. Dick didn't want to look into the eyes of the man that raised him and see nothing but disappointment. _'Then leave. They don't know you're awake yet. Just leave and everything will be fine.'_ The little voice promised. And Dick was going to do just that. At least he was until his foot stepped on a squeaky board. Frozen in place, Dick held his breath and hoped they hadn't heard. But the now silent voices and the hesitant "Dick" coming from the kitchen proved otherwise.

He remained frozen until the soft scratching of a chair and feet taping on tile approached. Dick turned just in time to see Wally leaning in the doorway, face calm with a soft smile on his lips.

"You hungry?"

Dick swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, watching Wally's smile brighten.

"Come on then, I saved you a plate."

* * *

"Are you positive that the Team didn't tell him?"

Bruce had gotten here around 7:30 this morning, which was a lot earlier than Wally had originally thought he would arrive. That wasn't what surprised him though, no, it was his disheveled hair and the wrinkled clothes of the suit he wasn't wearing. It looked like the great and powerful Bruce Wayne had jumped out of bed and run a marathon on his way here. Wally wasn't one to judge, however, because he knew that he was a sight to see as well.

"Yeah, I'm positive. He wouldn't have freaked out like that last night if he'd already known." Wally confirmed and sipped some of his coffee. The warm liquid was already doing wonders for him, and by the looks of it, it was helping Bruce out too.

"Hmm" Was the only reply Bruce gave him. Nothing in his face gave away to how he actually felt, but Wally was just going to assume he was pretty pissed.

Hours passed while they conversed about trivial things, both aware of the topic they kept avoiding. During a pause in their conversation, Wally grabbed his mug, planning to refill it, when he heard the floorboards creak. Wally's head turned towards the doorway for a moment as he paused in his chair. He glanced towards Bruce to make sure he wasn't imaging the sound. The man simply looked back at him for a moment before jerking his head towards the door. Wally figured Bruce was telling him to do something so he called out hesitantly, "Dick?" He looked to Bruce again, who was now mouthing for him _to go get Dick._

Wally stood quickly, chair scratching on tile, and walked into the doorway, leaning up against the wall. Dick had just finished turning around and was looking at Wally with a haunted expression.

"You hungry?" Wally tried asking, with a smile on his face. He watched as Dick frowned for a second before he nodded slightly. _'Thank God'_ he thought, _'he looks way too skinny.'_

"Come on then, I saved you a plate." He could feel Bruce's eyes burning into his back as he turned to sit back down. God that man was creepy. Ignoring Bruce for now, he listened as Dick padded softly behind him.

"Why don't you take a seat and I'll get you some coffee and eggs." Wally spoke softly, already grabbing the coffee pot. He'd run to the store earlier this morning after discovering Dick had no food.

"...Okay" Was the soft reply and he turned around to see Dick seated, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve.

"Dick" Bruce stated, but Wally didn't turn around, focused on getting Dick's food.

"Bruce" Dick replied, and that was it. Wally turned around and gently placed the food in front of him. God, were they awkward.

"Here ya go! Fresh off the pan!" Wally joked, trying to lighten the mood, and set down the coffee.

Dick looked up to him for a moment and mumbled out a "thanks."

"You're welcome!" Wally replied, ignoring the awkward air of the table and sat down.

Wally watched as Dick poked around at his food, eating a few pieces here and there, while he thought of what to do next. How does somebody breech this kind of topic? What was he supposed to say? _'Hey, I think you're depressed and hurting yourself. Show me your arms, I'm here to help!'_ No way! Dick would -and probably Bruce- punch him into next week if he said something like that. Don't mess with the Daddybats.

"Dick, how have things been with the Team lately?" Bruce finally asked, breaking Wally from his pondering state. He looked up to find Bruce intently staring at Dick, who had frozen at the question.

"Oh, they've be-, they've been fine. Nothing interesting has happened lately." Dick stammered out, continuing to mess with the food on his plate, never looking at either of them.

"Hmm" Was the only reply Bruce gave once again. He was _not_ helping with this conversation at all. How does someone reply to _'hmm?'_ You can't keep a conversation flowing with _'hmm's.'_

"Yeah, I was just with them yesterday actually. I had to update the computer's for them." Dick spoke, this time with more confidence in his voice. Wally even saw him glance up at Bruce for a moment, so… progress?

"Really? I didn't know you were there yesterday! You should've told me, we could've hung out." Wally interjected, hoping to bait him into telling the truth. _'Just tell us so we can help you Dick, please.'_ Wally thought somberly.

"Ye-yeah? Sorry, I wasn't feeling to well yesterday so I wanted to get home and sleep it off before patrol. I guess it didn't work out to well though, huh." Dick chuckled as he rattled off. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Wally or Bruce.

Bruce stood from his chair suddenly, the wooden legs screeching across the tile, "Dick, I want you to come and stay at the manor for a while." He all but ordered. Dick, shocked by the outburst merely babbled, "W-what?"

Bruce only stared at him with a hardened gaze that Dick didn't see, since he was too focused on his plate of food. "You're coming back to the manor with me today. Wally can come and stay to if you wish."

"But Tim sai- Never mind. Okay I'll come" Dick uttered confidently, trying to hide the earlier stutter. If Bruce heard it, he didn't say anything about it. Which was probably for the best right now. This was a delicate situation that needed to be handled with care. Something Bruce wasn't to good at.

"Yeah! Of course I'll come with you, that is if you want me to. Dick? Do you want me to come?" Wally suggested softly, he didn't want to pressure Dick into anything.

Wally watched Dick's face as he glared into the table, hopefully thinking. It was pale and littered with old bruises, and his eyes had dark bags underneath them. He really did look terrible.

"Yeah, you can come." Dick muttered as he stood from the table and wandered off, to pack his items Wally assumed.

Bruce waited until Dick was gone before turning to Wally and speaking up, "I'll bring him back to the manor and get him situated. Do you think you can head to the Mountain and find out what's causing this?" He asked Wally seriously. Here was the Bruce he knew, glaring holes into Wally's head.

"Yeah, of course. I was planning to go there anyway. I have a few words I'd like to say to everyone." Wally replied, balling his fists with anger clearly present in his voice.

"Good. Come to the manor when you're done. I think we're going to need all the help we can get tonight." Bruce voiced before he to, walked out of the kitchen, leaving Wally alone with his thoughts. _'I hope the Team is ready, because this isn't going to end well,'_ he thought bitterly.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I'm back! I'm sorry I was gone for so long. My laptop died on me and I had to wait until Christmas to get my new one. I hope you can forgive me!**

 **What did you think of this chapter? Please leave a comment and let me know! I'd love to hear your thoughts.**

 **Well, til next time,**

 **Rachel**

 **(My other stories will be updated within the next few days as well, if you're waiting for those chapter as well.)**


	5. I know

_Proverbs 14:13 "The heart feels pain even in laughter, and in the end, joy turns to sorrow."_

The ride to the manor had been a rather awkward one, consisting of Dick staring out the window and Bruce glancing over at him every few minutes. He knew what Bruce had been doing -trying to get him to open up. Dick bet that the second he started talking, Bruce would tell him how much of a disappointment he was, just like the Team had said. He'd probably say that Dick let his emotions cloud his judgement to much, or that he should've been able to handle the insults thrown his way. He'd say how Dick should be better than this. _Could_ be better than this. So, Dick didn't talk, he already knew what Bruce wanted to say.

When they'd finally walked into the manor they were greeted by Alfred, as per usual, who carried a somewhat solemn expression. He felt for the butler, it must be horrible to see someone you care about in such a terrible state. Dick nodded his head at him, but continued forward, not stopping to talk. He ignored the hand Bruce laid on his shoulder as he shuffled towards his old bedroom. Bruce let him go, and Dick was thankful that he hadn't tried to pry anything out of him, at least not yet.

He made it to his room with no issues -issues meaning Tim- and proceeded to curl up underneath the soft comforter of his bed. It didn't smell like him anymore -why would it with him having been gone for so long- but he still managed to relax enough to fall into a light slumber. That was all a few hours ago, long before lunch. Now, as the door to Dick's room creaked open, waking him, he guessed it was close to dinner.

* * *

 _6:17pm_

The light from the halfway shone over Dick's eyelids as someone opened his door, shuffling in silently. Dick, not in the mood to have any type of conversation, decided to play possum and pretend he was still asleep. The person, Bruce, Wally, or Alfred, -the footsteps were too heavy for Tim's- dropped something onto his floor, sounding much like blankets. Dick peaked an eye open slightly, attempting to catch a glimpse of his intruder.

A familiar mop of red hair soon came into view. It was Wally who, according to the mess on his floor, unceremoniously plopped down multiple blankets. It was Wally who was now seated in the middle of the pile, with a pillow in his lap, letting the light of his phone illuminate his face.

Dick closed his eye and struggled to keep his face relaxed. He hadn't thought that when he said Wally could come, he'd be sleeping in the room with him. Bruce must've told him to, he realized, the man probably didn't want to deal with his disappointment of a son. Wally staying in here with him tossed some major complications into what Dick was planning. He wouldn't be able to get to anything and, knowing Bruce, he'd already swept the room for anything of concern.

 _'You could just leave. You aren't being forced to stay here, not yet at least,'_ A little voice whispered, finally making itself known after hours of silence. Dick sighed softly and rolled over, taking the thought into consideration. Maybe the voice was right. After all, Dick was doing just fine on his own, keeping himself company and protecting Bludhaven. What gave Bruce the right to force himself into Dick's life after months of silence? _'Bruce doesn't care. It's just that he **has** to take care of you. It would be bad press for Bruce if you died.'_ It whispered soothingly, yet truthfully all the same.

The words brought one phrase to the forefront of Dick's mind, _Charity Case,_ maybe that's all he was. Before he could think on it more, the soft ruffle of blankets and the 'pat' of Wally's feet sounded behind him. Quickly, Dick relaxed his brow and hid the frown that had appeared with his thoughts. What was Wally doing?

"Dick? Hey buddy, are you awake?" Wally whispered softly, his voice barely reaching Dick's ears.

Curling himself tighter into the warm blankets, he ignored the redhead. Dick didn't have the energy for the conversation he was sure Wally wanted to have.

It was quiet for a few moments, only Dick's soft exhales interrupted the silence, and without meaning to, Dick slipped back asleep. He hadn't even heard Wally leave the room when dinner was called.

* * *

 _1:35pm_

On his way to the Mountain, right after leaving Dick's apartment, Wally started to think. What would he say to the Team? Would he tell them what their ignorance has caused? Maybe, but did they really deserve to know? He sighed and typed a code into the Gotham zeta beam, here goes nothing.

He entered the Mountain slowly, and walked purposefully towards the kitchen. It was just after lunch so everybody should still be here. Wally knew for a fact that Batman wasn't going to be giving out any missions today. He had _far_ more important things to deal with after all.

He could hear voices coming from the kitchen as he approached. They must've not heard him enter. Wally rounded the corner and stood in the doorway for a moment. Connor and M'gann were sitting at the bar, flirting shamelessly. Guess she and La'gaan didn't work out to well, did they? Robin was digging through the fridge while making small talk with Bart, who was seated on the counter next to him. La'gaan was looking rather bored, seated across from Connor, eating a sandwich. Just a normal day at the mountain. Almost everyone was there.

Pushing off the doorway, Wally made sure to announce his presence as he entered, "Hey guys, what's up?" He asked casually. Maybe someone would ask if he found Dick.

Everyone in the kitchen turned and smiled at him, each giving off their own greeting.

"Wally!" M'gann started, "Where have you been! You said you'd be back in a few hours, and that was last night!" She spoke, worry clearly present in her voice. Connor rested a hand over hers, giving her silent support.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at him, patiently waiting for an answer they already had. He'd told them yesterday where he was going and why.

"Why didn't you answer your phone when we called?" Connor asked, "Everyone was worried about you."

"I didn't want to answer, that's why," Wally snapped, "I was dealing with something far more important than your little phone calls," he finished with a sneer. How could they forget that he'd gone to find Dick? He'd told them specifically that he'd gone out to find Nightwing. Did they really not have a thought to spare for their friend?

The Team looked hurt by his reply, especially Bart, who's face now held a small frown. He hopped off the counter and stepped closer to the speedster, "What are you talking about Wally?" He questioned, crossing his arms over his chest, "We haven't done anything to have you snap at us like that. What's wrong?"

Wally walked forward and braced his hands on the table, "Yeah, me. You haven't done anything to _me._ Instead, you hurt one of the most important people in my life, and do you care? No!" Wally heaved in reply, throwing his arms up in anger, "But no, _nothing's_ wrong," He added sarcastically.

"Hurt?" Jaime growled, confused, "We haven't hurt anyone important to you!"

Wally was silent for a few moments as he attempted to contain his raging anger. _We haven't hurt anyone important to you._ The hell they didn't!

Taking Wally's silence as his chance to speak, Robin added, "If we've hurt someone close to you, why don't you just tell us who they are so we can stop fighting already. It can't be important enough to argue about."

Wally's blood was boiling now. How could Timmy, Dick's little brother, the brother he cared for more than anything in the world, say that? He must've known something was going on with Dick, "Not important! So the health of your fucking brother means nothing to you!?" Wally spat, "When was the last time any of you self-righteous asses got up and checked on him? Huh, when was the last time any of you checked up on Nightwing?" he yelled, and his friends finally understood what he was talking about.

"Nightwing? Nobody cares about Nightwing, the guys a traitor. He didn't tell us his plan and that caused people to die. How can we trust him after what he's done. He should've told us his plan. So Nightwing? He can just go die for all I care," La'gaan snapped.

And that was it, Wally was done. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. _He can just go die for all I care._ Wally stomped away from the table and walked closer towards his friends, who had all gathered together behind the bar. Locking eyes with his angered teammates he spoke, "You really mean that don't you? All of you?"

M'gann looked down at her feet and Connor crossed his arms, turning away slightly. Everyone kept their gazes focused on the floor, but what angered Wally the most, was Robin trying to leave the room.

"Does it really mean nothing? All those times he was there for you? Comforting you? Saving your life? Does it really all mean nothing?" Wally looked down at his feet, balling his fists, "He trusted you, and this is how you repay him?" He glared at Robin as he spoke this and the boy turned away, looking rather chastised, halting his escape.

"Every time one of you made a mistake, he forgave you, but the one time, _the one time,_ he messes up, you just abandon him without even trying to understand!?" Wally shouted, his voice hoarse with emotion. He scoffed, "Some friends you are. Don't expect me to answer the phone if any of you start calling," and with that, Wally turned sharply, heading for the zeta tube.

He didn't want to be in the room with them anymore. It disgusted him, knowing that his friends managed to hurt Dick like this. How could they not notice what their words were doing? It was obvious, Dick's whole demeanor had changed. The once bright and bubbly acrobat had turned into this quiet and dull shell of himself.

"Wait, Wally! We didn't mean it like that!"

He stopped walking, and without turning around, shouted back the his former teammates, "Fuck you!" and throwing their words back at them, "You can go die for all I care."

"Wally, stop," Connor demanded, "We can talk about this. I don't understand why you're reacting like this, Nightwing's fine. We just saw him a day ago."

"No we can't," Wally replied, turning back to face him, "We can't talk about this until you learn that _words can hurt people too._ And not to mention that you didn't even tell him I was alive. How can you expect me to sit down and make friends with people that would do something like that? It's cruel and I don't want any part of it. And no, Nightwing's not fine, and it's your fault. Goodbye."

And he left.

* * *

 _6:30pm_

Dick awoke to the rhythmic shaking of his shoulder. It was a rather pleasant awakening, if he compared it to the many times he'd been forced awake. Not to harsh yet determined all the same. This time however, no matter how pleasant it was, he hated it. Dick didn't want to wake up. He didn't want _to do_ anything.

"Hey, Dick, I need you to get up. You need to eat something."

Dick rolled over, pulling the blankets up over his head, "M'not hungry," he mumbled into his pillow.

The shaking never let up, and the person started talking again, effectively preventing him from dozing off, "I know Chum, but you need to get up. Come on."

Dicks eyes snapped open and he was grateful his head was under the blankets. Bruce was the only person that called him that. He uncovered his head and peaked out, any awkward tiredness he had left immediately, leaving him fully awake and alert.

"Hi," Dick mumbled and started crawling out of the blankets. He knew Bruce wouldn't leave until he got up, so there was no point in fighting. Every movement made Dick want to groan. The bruises from last nights patrol had left him rather sore, he felt terrible.

Bruce chuckled, "Hello, now come on, Alfred kept your plate warm. Timmy just got home too, so you can say hi to him as well," he said, laying a hand on Dick's back, urging him forward.

Dick sat up with his feet hanging over the edge, not making any movement to stand. He wanted to get up, he really did. He knew he should get up, Bruce wasn't patient with things like this. But, it was just _so hard_ to do. Everything took so much effort, and in the end, it left him feeling drained, emotionally and physically. Dick was starting to question whether or not leaving his bed was even worth it anymore. Maybe he should've never left his apartment.

"Dick," the hand pressed a little more firmly, "Come on."

Waiting just a moment more while he built up the energy to move, Dick replied softly, "Okay."

* * *

 _4:45pm_

Wally entered the manor a little before five o'clock, greeting Alfred as he walked by the kitchen. Normally he'd stop and have a chat with the man, ask him what plays he'd seen, maybe even ask for a book recommendation. But not today, right now, he needed to find Bruce, and Wally knew exactly where he'd be.

Walking quickly through the halls, he stopped when he reached a pair of large oak doors. Taking a moment to ready himself, Wally took a deep breath and knocked, opening the door a crack, "Bruce?"

"Hmm," Bruce looked up before glancing back down, "Wally, how'd it go with the Team?"

How'd it go? It went terrible, the Team is full of assholes that don't care what comes out of their mouths if it makes them feel better. That's what Wally wanted to say at least, and maybe he would later. First, he needed to talk about Tim. Something was definitely going on with him, and Wally wanted to know what. Walking across the expensive carpet and taking a seat in front of the desk, he spoke seriously, "I think you need to have a word with Tim."

Bruce looked up from his paperwork, a confused look momentarily adorning his face, "How so?"

Wally sighed, there was no easy way to say this. How do you tell someone you think their son is one of the reasons why their other kid is depressed? Raking a hand through his hair, he chose his next words carefully, "I think Tim might be one of the reasons why Dick is...depressed."

There, he said it. He finally said it. Wally just hadn't expected it to be so hard to admit. Dick was depressed. He was depressed and hurting and Wally wanted _-so badly-_ to help him get better.

Bruce leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his desk, "What do you mean?" He questioned, his face holding an impassive expression.

"Well, when I was at the mountain, I kind of got into an argument with everyone," he swallowed thickly, "and Tim, well, he acted like he didn't even care. He didn't even say anything to defend Dick when everyone was blaming him. I don- I just don't think Tim is as innocent as he lets everyone believe," Wally finished truthfully, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. No matter how Bruce reacted, he was just glad he managed to get it out. Bruce was quiet for a few moments after Wally finished his speech. What the man was thinking, he couldn't guess.

"I'll have a talk with him," Bruce paused, and Wally waited as the seconds soon turned to minutes, "Wally? Do you mind sleeping in Dick's room? I'm afraid he'll try to do something if he's left alone."

Wally nodded, standing up to leave. It must've been hard for Bruce to actually ask for help, let alone admit that something was wrong with one of his sons. The man had turned into a helicopter parent after Jason's death, creating more and more rules to keep his remaining children alive. It was actually one of the reasons why he and Dick stopped talking in the first place, "Yeah, sure, I'll go grab some blankets. Do you want me to bring him down for dinner? He hasn't really eaten anything today."

"If he's awake you can try, but I'll get him in a few hours if he's still sleeping," Bruce replied, picking his papers back up, ending the -for once- pleasant conversation.

"Okay," He opened the door, and closed it behind him as he spoke, "I'll see you later."

Wally let out a breath and leaned against the doors for a moment. Everything was moving so quickly and he didn't know what to do. His mind wandered back to the conversation _-argument-_ he had with the Team. It was a little harsh, he realized, the things he said to them. But it was Dick, and they wouldn't stop. They just wouldn't stop saying those things _-lies-_ about him. Dick did everything he could to keep them out of harm's way on that mission, disregarding his own safety along the way. It killed him, not being able to tell anyone, but Dick knew the risks. He just wished the Team did too.

Wally hoped they pulled their heads out of their asses soon, before something that they can't fix happened. Dick wasn't okay, that much was true, and it was Wally's job as his best friend to help him get better. Only, the hard part was arriving quickly, and that was finding out whether or not Dick was cutting himself, and Wally could only pray that he wasn't suicidal. He couldn't lose his best friend, not after he just got him back.

* * *

Dick fumbled his way down the stairs, with Bruce following close behind. Tim just got home, which meant he hadn't eaten dinner, which meant he'd have to sit at the table with him. Dick glanced at the clock that was hanging in the hall facing the kitchen. _6:53pm_ Had he really slept the whole day?

Dick fiddled with the end of his sleeve -thank god Bruce hadn't made him change his clothes- as he spotted Tim at the kitchen table, silently eating. In the corner of his eye he could see Wally hanging around Alfred, asking for fourths. Normally Dick would've had some kind of joke ready, but...not today. Maybe tomorrow. Dick dragged his feet towards a chair at the table, not saying anything, he could make it through dinner. He _had_ to make it through dinner. The sooner he showed them he was fine, the sooner he could leave.

"Master Dick, how nice of you to join us," Alfred said with a smile, "I made beef stew for dinner, I hope it's to your liking," he added, placing a steaming bowl in front of him. It smelled great, and Dick realized just how hungry he was.

"...Thanks," Dick mumbled, risking a glance up at the man. He was smiling with such warmth, it made Dick want to cry. It'd been so long since someone had smiled, _really_ smiled at him.

Bruce sat down at the head of the table, soon followed by Wally, each with their own bowl of stew.

"Hey Dick!" Wally greeted from his spot next to Dick, "How'd you sleep?" He asked, taking a bite of stew.

"Master Wallace, do not speak with food in your mouth," Alfred interjected from behind the counter.

Wally ducked, his cheeks flaring red at the scolding, "Sorry Alfred," he said after swallowing and turned his attention towards his bowl.

Dick looked up to answer and saw Tim staring at him like a hawk, he froze for a second before replying, "I uh, I slept good I guess," He did. That was probably the most sleep he'd gotten in two weeks. Tim was still watching him when he looked back, holding him under a scrutinizing gaze.

"That's great man," Wally added, trying to break any awkwardness that had formed. Dick had to give Wally kudos for trying, but Wayne family awkwardness at the table was pretty common.

"Tim," Bruce finally spoke up, drawing the tables occupants attention, "How was the Team today? Anything interesting happen?"

"Uh, no not really," Tim answered casually, "M'gann made lunch and burned cookies like usual. It was actually a pretty average day to be honest."

"Really? Wally told me he visited you guys. Did you play any games or do some training?" Bruce questioned further, and Dick was getting rather confused. Was Bruce mad at Tim? Normally he'd never ask about superhero stuff at the table, at least he didn't when Dick was still living here.

"No, nothing like that. We all kinda just...talked," he finished awkwardly, waving his free hand in the air.

Dick could sense that something was off between them so he chose to keep his head down and mess with his stew. He popped a chunk of meat into his mouth and began to chew as Bruce spoke up once more.

"Timothy, _I know._ "

* * *

 **Hello everyone! First of all I would like to apologize for the cussing. I don't ever cuss, but I felt it was necessary here, so sorry if anyone is upset about that.**

 **Next, I would like to say that I'm surprised this story has gotten so long. Originally, I had planned it to be a one-shot based off of a song I heard. Dick was going to die in the end, but as I was writing the first chapter, I realized it wasn't going to work that way. The song was the cover of 'Hurt' by Johnny Cash, so if you listen to it and read the first chapter, you'll see how the two correlate.**

 **So, how did you like this chapter? I know the POV switches are a little strange, with them not going in order of time (Sorry about that). If anyone needs any clarification as to the order of events, just let me know.**

 **I think that's it for now. Let me know what you think in the comments, any favorite parts? Lines? Paragraphs? I'd love to hear from you.**

 **Til next time,**

 **Rachel**


	6. Revelations

_"Every human walks around with a certain kind of sadness. They may not wear it on their sleeves, but it's there if you look deep." Taraji P. Henson_

"Timothy, _I know."_

Bruce announced, voice calm and collected, sending an eerie silence across the dinner table. Dick swallowed thickly, Bruce sounded mad. What did Timmy do?

"You and I are going to have a talk after dinner. Is that understood?" Bruce all but commanded, glaring harshly at Tim.

Tim looked down at his bowl, swishing the food around inside, "Yes Sir," He answered lazily.

It only took a moment for Dick to decide that he didn't want to end up on the receiving end of that glare. Best to leave before Bruce had the chance to list off all the ways Dick was a disappointment to him. Especially since he didn't know why Bruce was upset. He seemed fine earlier.

"May I be excused?" Dick asked as he rose from his chair, not waiting for an answer, and rushed to put his bowl in the sink. He heard the screech of Wally's chair behind him and decided it was best to wait for Wally in the kitchen than to have his friend chase him throughout the hall.

Wally sped in, using his superspeed, and came to a halt in front of Dick, looking rather worried. Why is it, that everytime someone looked at him now, their gaze was filled with worry or hate? Is that all Dick is worth now? Are they never happy to see him? It's all in the eyes. His Mother used to tell him about the importance of reading a person's eyes. That no matter what expression their face made, the only important thing to watch was their eyes. Dick still believed it to be true, especially now.

"Hey, man. Are you okay? You kinda rushed out of there?" Wally asked, giving Dick a quick once over.

Dick smiled sadly, "Yeah, I just don't feel too well, that's all," He lied. He couldn't tell Wally that he was afraid of Bruce. No way. Wally would laugh in his face, and Dick didn't think he'd be able to handle that right now.

"Okay, how 'bout we go up to your room and play some games? Just like old times," Wally smiled brightly, "I bet you I'll finally win," He added, slapping a hand onto Dick's shoulder.

Dick nodded hesitantly, "Yeah, why not. Just like old times." Anything to keep him away from Bruce.

* * *

"Timothy, sit down."

The door slammed shut and feet stomped across the carpeted hardwood.

"I saw the video and I know what you said to Dick. What I don't understand is why."

Tim threw himself onto the chair in front of Bruce's desk, crossing his arms and glaring profusely.

"So? I said what needed to be said. That's it, there's nothing else to it." Tim spoke harshly, slouching further down into his chair, averting his gaze to the floor.

Bruce took a deep breath before responding, it would do no good if he lost his cool. "Tim, I know you're a smart kid. Hell, you know you're a smart kid, which is why I don't understand where in your right mind you thought you could say that to Dick. In front of the Team nonetheless," He finished, his frustration barely slipping through.

"It's okay because it's true! If he'd told us his plan, then maybe people wouldn't have died, and M'gann wouldn't have fried Kaluder's brain!" Tim yelled, standing up to face Bruce, "I'm his brother! He should have told me these things!"

"And that gives you the right to say that he should die? That gives you the right to alienate him from everyone he cares about?" Bruce yelled back, "Because of _you,"_ Bruce jabbed a finger into Tim's chest, "and the Team, Dick's been neglecting his health. Because of you, I had to rush over to Bludhaven because Wally called saying that _Dick wasn't okay._ You, as his brother, _you_ of all people, should know how bad Dick can get when he's alone. So what gives you the right?" Bruce finishes, his voice calm and collected as the sentence trails off.

"Oh come on!" Tim yelled sarcastically, throwing his hands into the air, "Don't _you_ give me that bullshit. What about all the times you've ignored Dick. I'm just stating what I see. Bruce, you're a hypocrite!" He yelled, pointing a finger at his adopted father, "If you really cared about Dick, then maybe you'd check up on him more often. Maybe you'd actually act like a parent for once, instead of pushing him away!" Tim finished, his breath coming out in harsh gasps.

Deep down inside, Bruce knew Tim was right. He knew that pushing Dick away would hurt the boy more than it would help, but at least he _knew._ Tim didn't know. He didn't know what his words were doing to Dick, and that was the problem.

"Maybe if Dick offed himself, some of our problems wou-"

A resounding crack echoed throughout the study, followed by a stunned silence.

"Don't you ever, _ever,_ say something like that again. Go to your room," Bruce replied coldly, "You're grounded until I say so, and until you apologize," he sat down, the chair creaking as he gripped the handles tightly, "to Dick, and to me."

Tim removed his hand from his ever reddening cheek, his mouth opened wide in shock, "Bru-"

"Go."

"Wai-"

"GO! I'm done with you."

* * *

Dick couldn't sleep. It was around one am and Dick was lying wide awake in bed, not sleeping. He and Wally had finished gaming a few hours ago -with Dick losing most of the matches- in favor of going to sleep. It seemed like a good idea at the time, it really did. But now, with Dick left alone with nothing but his thoughts and the sound of Wally's breathing, he really regretted coming to the manor. The one good thing about being in his Apartment was that when he couldn't sleep, he could always go out as Nightwing.

Maybe that's what he'd do. Not go out as Nightwing, maybe not even as Dick Grayson. Bruce should be out as Batman now, so it shouldn't be too hard to sneak out of the manor. Wally always had been a deep sleeper.

Rising from his covers, Dick reached to the side of his bed where he'd dropped his duffle bag, and grabbed some clothes from inside. Throwing on a hoodie, sweatpants, and socks, Dick snatched his shoes and padded across the floor, stepping over Wally carefully.

Sneaking down the stairs was rather easy, considering Dick slid down the banister instead of walking. He came to a halt however, as he passed the end table full of photos. Glancing at a few, he saw someone he hadn't thought about in a while. _Jason._ God, now Dick felt terrible. How could he forget Jason? They boy whose funeral he missed because _Bruce never told him Jason died._ What would Jason think of him now? He'd probably be disappointed above all else. Angry too, for not being there for him when he'd needed it.

Dick's eyes began to water. Everywhere he went, it seemed like everyone around him always died. His parents, Jason, Wally. Who'd be next? Bruce?Maybe he should just leave and spare everyone the pain of dealing with him. Dick made a mental note to sneak back in later and steal this picture. The only one he had of Jason and him was on the day jason arrived at the manor, and neither of them looked to happy. Bruce probably wouldn't miss it anyway.

The clock struck two and Dick continued his treck for the door. He needed to leave. Thoughts on Jason could wait until he was hidden deep within Gotham, away from Batman's prying eyes.

* * *

An alarm on his phone went off, interrupting the speech he was giving to his captives. The phone was pulled from his pocket and the message read fairly quickly.

"Well, well, well, gentleman. It seems like today is your lucky day. You get to go free," He spoke, voice muffled by the modulator he wore.

The thugs faces scrunched up in confusion, and one began mumbling protests beneath his gag.

"What? You don't want to leave? Fine. You can wait here while I go find out whose trespassing on my grave," He finished, turning around to leave the warehouse.

The thugs let out even more confused sounds, but he wasn't listening. He was more curious as to who would be at his grave this early in the morning?

"Keep them warm would ya? I'm not finished with them yet," He ordered to one of his lackeys, not caring enough to find his Lieutenant.

Grabbing the keys to his bike, he readjusted his helmet, and sped off towards Gotham Cemetery. This would be interesting.

* * *

It was cold, much colder than Dick had anticipated when he'd left the manor. The cemetary was quiet, with only a few chirps from the early birds. It was...peaceful, strangely so, and Dick couldn't put his finger on why.

Walking silently through the many stones, Dick reached his desired destination. He stopped to look for a moment. It'd been so long since the last time he'd come here. The plot was nice, resting a hill underneath a willow tree. Jason would've liked it, Dick thought. Briefly, Dick wondered where his own would be placed. Next to his parents? He didn't dwell on it to long, he hadn't come here for himself. He'd come only for Jason.

Shivering, Dick tucked his hands beneath his armpits and knelt down onto the muddy grass. He pulled a few weeds and wiped off the headstone, reading the name splayed across the granite.

 _Jason Peter Todd_

Dick's breath hitched, God, Jason was only fifteen. He bowed his head, and began mumbling quietly, "God, Jay, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I forgot you today and I-," he choked on his next words as the dam broke, tears finally escaping his tired eyes, "Sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me," A humorless chuckle flew past his lips as he wiped his eyes. He stared at the headstone a moment longer, tugging at the grass between his fingers.

"Little Wing, I-I know, I know you hate it when I rant, but I should be able to handle it, the things they're saying, right? But-," He breathed deeply, losing the last of his already fragile composure, "but I just can't take it anymore," Dick looked up at the sky, the beginnings of a storm were starting to appear. He didn't mind though. He was already soaked from the drizzle that came down a bit earlier.

"You're probably laughing at me, aren't you?" He asked sadly, curling into himself, "You'd probably think it's selfish of me for wanting this, wouldn't you?"

Dick rolled back on his heels and laid onto his back, his head residing next to the gravestone. "Just this once, you know? Just this once, I want to be selfish. I'm always giving, always. Someone needs help? I'm there. The Team needs a babysitter? I'm there. So why, why can't I be selfish, just this once? It's not like anyone would care."

"I'd care, because then I wouldn't have anyone to rant on my grave."

* * *

When he'd arrived at his grave, the last person he expected to see was Dick Grayson have a damn near panic attack on the ground in front of it. It surprised him to say the least, and even with his newfound hate for anything 'Bat' related, Jason had still wanted to rush up and help the man.

The wind was harsh, a storm was picking up, and Jason could only make out a few words at a time, but what he did hear, he didn't like.

"... forgot you today…laughing at me...selfish….just...once...why…"

One statement made it clear through Jason's mask, and that was when he knew he had to step in, else Dick pass out on his grave.

"...Why can't I be selfish, just this once? It's not like anyone would care." Dick asked, broken and sobbing softly.

Jason stepped forward out of the bushes, "I'd care, because then I wouldn't have anyone to rant on my grave."

Dick flinched and went rigid at his voice, turning around sharply to face him.

"Who are you?" Dick shouted, but the question came out weaker than expected. It was harsh and raw and filled with bubbling with emotion.

"Aww, come on Goldie, you don't recognize me?" Jason teased, walking closer towards Dick, who was now rushing to his feet and talking on a defensive stance.

"How do you know that name?" Dick asked shakily, lowering his fists a tad.

"Well I gave it to you of course," Jason said, and Dick looked at him confused, "Still don't remember me, huh. Maybe this will help." Jason reached up and removed the red helmet from his head, allowing Dick to see his face, "Hey Dickiebird, you look like shit."

* * *

Wally woke with a yawn and a feeling that something wasn't right. Ignoring it, he rolled over and fluffed his pillow a bit, intent on going back to sleep, when something caught his eye. The bed, Dick's bed, the one is friend was supposed to be sleeping in, was empty. What the heck. Bruce was going to kill him.

Wally shot up to his feet in seconds, "Dick?" he shout-whispered, running into the bathroom to look for his friend. Dick wasn't there. Wally went back to the bed, hoping he imagined Dick being gone. Nope, not there either. Shit. This was bad. He'd lost Dick.

Whipping out his phone, Wally prayed Bruce took his with him on patrol, and dialed his number. It rang for what felt like forever before a gruff voice answered with a grunt.

"Bruce," Wally said anxiously, "Bruce, Dick is gone."

* * *

 **Hello everyone! I know, it's amazing right? Another update!**

 **Sorry for the cussing.**

 **Anyway, what did you think of this chapter? Any favorite parts? Lines? scenes? Leave a comment below! I'd love to hear from you. (It's the favorite part of my day)**

 **I'll update my other stories soon, for those that had been wondering about them. Just be patient for a little bit longer! They're almost ready.**

 **So, til next time,**

 **Rachel**


	7. Tomorrow

Dick woke with a stiff neck and the feeling that something was wrong. He didn't know what it was, but something just felt...off. Sitting up, he looked suspiciously at the soft couch beneath him. How did he get here? As far as Dick knew, he'd snuck out of the manor and gone to Jason's grave where he met this person and- _Jason!_ It was Jason!

In a wild frenzy, Dick stood up and began to look around the room, hoping to spot his brother. Nothing looked familiar. There were no pictures hanging, no clothes lying around. In fact, the room looked barely lived in. His little brother lived in some kind of run down, sparsely furnished attempt at a house -apartment. Only a coffee table, couch, and T.V were actually in the living room. Honestly, the room didn't look very 'living' at all.

A soft knock made him turn his head, bringing him out of his musings. Slowly, Dick blinked, staring at the figure before him. The ghost.

"Jason?" Dick asked meekly, shocked. He swallowed thickly, holding back the tears that wanted to rush out. He'd cried enough last night. _But it was real_ , _Jason was real._

"Hey Dickiebird," Jason started, approaching Dick, "How're you feeling? You didn't look to hot last night." He added, stopping a few feet in front of his older brother, inwardly smirking at the now noticeable height difference.

Dick, ignoring the question, rushed forward and closed the gap, trapping Jason in a tight hug, "Jay! How? I thought you were dead!" Dick cried, words muffled by Jason's clothing. His little brother was alive! He came back! _Like Wally. Everyone just keeps coming back without telling him._

Jason sighed, "I was Dick. The Joker killed me," he hugged Dick back, showing some rare affection, "Ra's figured that my death was pointless and decided to bring me back," He said bluntly and separated them, looking into Dick's eyes, "You could say he almost felt bad," Jason spat the last part.

"Ra's brought you back?" Dick questioned, following Jason as he motioned to another room. _Why didn't you tell me Littlewing?_

"Yeah, a miracle, I know," Jason confirmed.

"Does Bruce know?" Dick asked hesitantly, already knowing the answer. Of course, Bruce wouldn't know.

Jason paused, turning back to Dick, "No he doesn't, and you're not going to tell him, Dick," He said seriously.

"But-" _Jaybird._

"No"

"Jason-" _Please._

"No"

"Bruc-" _Can help._

"Dick!" Jason shouted, clenching his fists by his sides, "Please."

Dick stopped, a feeling of sadness washing over him as he looked at his little brother, "...Okay. _Okay,_ I _won't tell_ Bruce." After all, how could he tell Bruce when he couldn't even talk to the man about his own problems?

"Thanks, Dick," Jason started, relaxing slightly, "You hungry?" He asked, changing the topic as he moved towards his pantry.

"...Yeah." _I suppose I have to eat something._

"Now, tell me why you were a train wreck on my grave last night."

* * *

What do you mean Dick is gone!" Bruce roared, pacing back and forth across his office floor.

Wally ducked, nervous, "He was gone when I woke up!" He defended, "Dick must've snuck out while I was sleeping."

Bruce stopped pacing and turned to Wally, "We need to find him, quickly, before he does anything stupid," He spoke, his eyes wide with worry. It scared Wally, seeing the unemotional Bruce Wayne so...broken.

"Yeah, of course. I can start searching the streets. Do you want me to get the Team involved," He asked. No matter how much he hated the idea, Wally wasn't stupid enough to refuse their help with a situation such as this.

Bruce didn't speak for a minute, thinking, "No. Not yet. If we can't find him by tonight, then we'll ask for help," He concluded, "Now go. Call and give me an update every hour."

"Okay, but what about Tim?" Wally questioned, halfway out the door.

Bruce looked at his desk, having sat down after his earlier statement, "I'll deal with Tim. Now leave."

* * *

"They didn't tell you Wally was alive? Who the fuck does that?" Jason spat angrily over his eggs. How the fuck could the Team do something like that?

Dick looked sadly at Jason, "I don't know Jay. I guess they thought I didn't deserve to know," he shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of coffee. Jason had made them breakfast.

Internally, Jason was seething. He might've come back with a vendetta against Bruce, but there was still plenty of room on his list, and the Team had just made it on. All Dick did was save the world, and now they treat him like shit because of what? Nothing. A few heroes died, big deal. They knew the risks of the job. The only one they can blame for their death was themselves.

"Dick, it's not your fault. Take it from someone that's died," Jason spoke earnestly, "Sometimes there is just nothing you can possibly do to stop it from happening. Sometimes, the only thing you can do is move on and continue your life."

Dick nodded, "I guess. I think I might swing by the Mountain later and have a talk with everyone," he added, eyes blank as he poked at his food.

"Yeah, tell them what you really think, and-"

A shrill ring interrupted Jason. His phone. He glanced at the caller ID, "Shit. Dick, hold on, I need to take this."

Jason stood and left the room for a few minutes. Dick could hear muffled shouting from the kitchen, but he ignored it. Wasn't his business.

Instead, he pondered. What would he tell the Team? What would they say back? He had to end this. _You need to say goodbye._

"Hey Dickie," Jason entered the room again, a deep frown spread across his lips, "I need to go, something with work came up. They can't fix it without me. I'm sorry," He added, his posture riddled with defeat.

Dick nodded, "It's alright, I was just about to leave anyway," He stood up and began to meticulously gather his belongings, "Things to do and all," he waved his hand carelessly, not looking at Jason. Not letting him see the tears that begin to collect in his eyes.

"Dick.." Jason stared at his brother, worried, "Just don't do anything stupid, okay? I'll catch up with you _tomorrow_ alright?" He grabbed his jacket and keys from a chair nearby. "Don't tell Bruce."

"I won't," Dick smiled, "See you _tomorrow_ Jason."

Jason pointed at Dick, " _Tomorrow."_

* * *

 **I'm sorry that this hasn't been updated in a while. Things have been hectic since I got out off basic, but I'm back now, and ready to write.**

 **I'll also let y'all in on a little secret. I've written the last chapter for this story, and I'm sorry.**

 **But, let me know what you think of this chapter, and leave a comment! I love reading them! Also, if you like this story, share it with your friends or followers! I'd like to see what everyone thinks.**

 **Anyway, till next time,**

 **Rachel**


	8. To Be Ignorant

Dick had planted himself on the rooftop of Wayne Tower hours ago. The building was one of the tallest in Gotham and had a great view of the cityscape. It was the perfect perch to think on, and Dick certainly had a lot to think about.

After Jason left -rather abruptly might he add- he'd sat numbly at the apartment for a good hour. Dick just hadn't known what to do with himself after his not-so-dead-brother left. He couldn't go back to the manor because he'd probably tell Bruce or Alfred whilst having a breakdown, something he did not need right now.

So, here he sat, at the top of Wayne Tower, one of the tallest buildings in Gotham.

The wind ruffled his hair, and he let his mind wander. How would it feel to have the air ripped from his lungs if he threw himself from the building? Would he pass out on the way down? Would it hurt when he hit the cement? Had it hurt for his parents?

Dick placed his head in his hands, wishing he couldn't think thoughts like that. Was something so wrong with him that he constantly kept thinking about killing himself? Why? Shaking slightly -from the cold or emotions, he didn't know- Dick stood, wrapping his arms around his torso.

He moved to the edge of the roof, where a small cement wall had been placed, more than likely to keep people from falling off. Kind of ironic with the thoughts he was currently thinking. Dick laughed to himself and knelt down, resting his upper body on the ledge.

Was Bruce worried about him? It'd been about a day since Dick fled the manor, and he hadn't contacted anyone since the day before. Was Bruce scared or relieved? Perhaps he was even angry at Dick for leaving.

The wind blew softly against his cheeks. It was much more powerful higher up, but gentle all the same. If he were standing, it would've been the perfect nudge to send him over the edge. Dick sighed. Something was definitely wrong with him. Maybe he should call someone, let them know he's alive. Wally?

Dick rolled back onto his heels and reached into his pants pocket, pulling out his phone. It was at fifteen percent with ten missed calls and nineteen new text messages. He frowned. Guess people really were worried about him after all.

Dick scrolled through his contacts until he saw Wally's name, clicked it, and brought the phone to his ear, listening to the rings. Wally answered on the third ring.

"Dick?"

He didn't answer right away, "Yeah."

"Dick! Where are you!? Are you hurt?" Wally panicked, his voice fluctuating every other word.

Dick sighed, his breath rattling slightly, surprising him. Where were these emotions coming from? He was fine a few minutes ago. "I'm fine," He reassured, but it sounded fake to his own ears, "I'm sitting at the top of Wayne Tower."

"Don't move," Wally spoke with sudden seriousness, "I'm coming to get you. I'll be there in a flash."

"No," Dick half shouted, although he wasn't sure why, "You don't need to get me. I'm fine, really." He finished, cringing at the false reassurance.

"No, I'm coming to get you. Don't do anything, please," Wally pleaded towards the end. The phone went dead. Silence pierced its way through the speaker, a dead dial tone left buzzing in the background.

Dick held the phone to his ear, listening to the dead ring on the other end. Wally had really just hung up on him, hadn't he? That was a first.

It was just after Dick rested his body on the ledge again when Wally finally showed up. He was in civilians and his hair was sticking up wildly in every direction. Dick also noted the smalls bags beginning to take form under his eyes. He filed that away for later.

"Dick," Wally spoke, his voice sounding like a weight had just been lifted off his shoulders.

"Hi Walls," Dick started, not really knowing what to say, "Nice night, isn't it," He looked back over the city, "Perfect night to think," He inhaled the cool air deeply, hoping it would help calm his nerves.

Wally walked over to him slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, and sat down beside him, "I suppose," He looked at Dick, his eyes scanning him intensely, "But I think it depends on what you've been thinking about to really determine if the night is indeed, nice."

Dick chuckled, a small smile forming on his lips, "I guess you're right," he looked at his feet, "Then I think it's safe for me to say that this night isn't so nice after all."

Wally inhaled sharply, "What have you been thinking about?" He asked hesitantly, probably not wanting to know the answer.

Dick didn't respond. He didn't want Wally to see how much of a freak he'd become, but his silence was all the answer Wally needed.

"Oh...I see," he paused, gathering his thoughts, "Dick, I need you to come back to the manor with me, please?" Wally put his hand into Dick's line of sight, waiting for him to grab it. _Expecting_ him to.

"I know," Dick started. He knew this was the inevitable question Wally was going to ask, "I just, I just don't like being there." _I miss my apartment,_ went unspoken.

He took Wally's hand and let himself be dragged to his feet. Lacking the energy to do it himself.

Wally smiled sadly and Dick noticed how it reached all the way up to his eyes. They were glassy and red with a tad hint of sadness in the pupil. Not to mention the light gray bags, just about ready to turn into that black and blue shade of exhaustion. Dick was far too familiar with those types of bags. It made him frown. Wally was always happy, why would he suddenly be so sad?

"Dick...here, hop on my back. I'll give you a piggyback ride. You used to love those, right?" He spoke with false happiness that Dick wasn't used to hearing from his friend. Wally was always _so_ happy.

"...Yeah, just like old times," Dick climbed on, unsure of the awkwardness blooming in the air.

Wally sped off, ignoring it, and Dick wrapped his arms tighter around Wally's neck, not wanting to slip off. In return, Dick felt Wally tighten his grip on Dick's legs, making sure Dick wouldn't slip away into the night.

It was only then, as they sped across the city, that Dick realized, he was going to have to see Bruce again.

His heart dropped.

* * *

Superboy had been feeling off all day. Not like a sick off, but the kind that really gets under your skin. The kind that eats away at you until you've figured out exactly what was wrong. He felt like he should be doing something, but he didn't know what. Something really important.

Grumbling to himself, he stomped over to the couch and sat down, turning on static. Maybe this would help him remember. Help him clear his head a bit.

Watching the static did help, for the most part. Connor wasn't sure if it had been ten minutes or thirty, but he was finally able to discover what kind of 'off' it was. Something bad was going to happen, and he knew it. Something bad was going to happen, and they would be too late. It was something Connor knew he wouldn't be able to stop, and that made the feeling even worse. But he just didn't know what 'it' was.

He had just begun to analyze the feeling further, attempting to figure out exactly what would go wrong when the zeta beam announced Robin's arrival. Superboy hadn't seen him in a few days. Maybe something had happened in Gotham? Was that the cause of his great unease?

"Hey, Robin, what's up?" Superboy asked, "I haven't seen you here in a few days."

Robin looked a little out of it, glancing around the cave nervously, but never looking directly at Connor, "Oh nothing too much," he started, his voice a little higher than usual, "But hey, I have to ask. Have you seen Nightwing recently? Any calls?" He finished, finally settling his gaze on the half-Kryptonian.

"No? Why do you ask?" Conner replied, anger suddenly overtaking his emotions. What did Robin want with Nightwing anyway? Did he do something to Tim? That guy was a liar and Tim shouldn't be wasting his time on a brother he couldn't trust.

"It's nothing. Batman sent me to find him. He only needs to talk to him, that's all," Tim stated firmly, already turning back towards the zeta to leave.

"Robin," Superboy called, still sitting on the couch. This was the only chance he'd been able to talk to Tim in days. Something must've happened in Gotham. Something having to do with Nightwing.

Robin halted, turning his head to the side, but leaving his body towards the exit, "Yeah?"

"Don't waste your feeling on someone who doesn't value them," He started. Connor knew that what he said next would hurt Robin deeply, but it needed to be said. He cared for Tim and didn't want to see him get hurt because of someone he thought was family. Not like he'd been.

"I know Dick's your older brother, and I know you care about him, even if you're mad at him right now. But, he's hurting you, Tim, don't you see it? You and Bruce. Alfred, hell, even the Team," Connor paused, taking a deep breath. Robin moved to fully face the exit, "I know he's your family, and you don't want to turn your back on him completely, but Tim, you need to," Connor stood up, finally making his way over to Tim and stopped when he was in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Family or not, if they're dragging you down, you need to cut them loose."

* * *

Tim entered the Batcave with a sinking feeling in his chest. What Connor had said to him...well, he wasn't exactly wrong. Ever since Dick left the Team and moved to Bludhaven permanently, he'd ignored Tim. Honestly, he more or less ignored everyone. Friends, family. Everyone. Yeah, Dick might've hurt a bit when he got kicked off the Team, but people move on.

Tim sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Why was everything so complicated? And to make matters worse, Dick had to go run off to God knows where doing God knows what. And like always, Bruce was out looking for him.

His feet felt like lead as Tim climbed the stairs, with the feeling slowly creeping into his other limbs. What was this? He shook his head, entering the manor and heading straight for his room. He could look for Dick tomorrow.

He was passing by Dick's old room when soft voices fluttered from behind the dark oak. Soft and worried was one, panicked and weak was the other. Had Wally found Dick?

Deciding to go against his instincts for the first time in a long time, Tim pushed the door open an inch, not too much to be noticed, but enough to see through.

He had been right. Sat on the blue comforter of the bed, was Dick and Wally, but something was wrong, he noticed, but he couldn't see what it was. Tim crouched, giving himself a better angle to peak through.

Dick's shirt was off and he was crying as Wally held his arms in his hands. Wally's expression was hard to describe. To Tim, he looked like Bruce when he'd watched Jason's funeral from the T.V. Wally's expression was that of a man who had just lost everything, and yet, nothing at all.

Tim tried to get a closer look at Dick's arms. What could be there to cause such a ruckus? In doing so, he moved the door open a few more inches, but Wally and Dick didn't notice. To enamored in what was going on in front of them.

His breath caught in his throat. Tim's eyes watered slightly from the shock of what was being displayed before him. It was when Tim finally realized what he'd done -contributed too- that Dick started babbling out apologies, hurting Tim more than he thought it would.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Wally, I'm sorry," Dick sobbed, more tears running down his cheeks, staining his t-shirt. His face was a splotchy red and he was shaking badly. Tim wouldn't be surprised if he slipped into a panic attack right now.

"Shh, it's okay Dickie, I'm not mad, It's okay," Wally soothed, rubbing Dick's arms, although it wasn't doing much to calm Dick down. He just kept shaking and crying. Tim couldn't ever remember a time where he'd seen Dick get this bad.

"It's not okay! I promised you! I promised!" Dick shouted, startling both Wally and Tim. No one was expecting to hear the boiling anger in those words. _Anger that was only directed at himself._

"Dickie, _it's okay, everything's going to be okay,"_ Wally tried, almost like he was trying to console himself more than Dick.

Everything was not going to be okay. Tim couldn't watch this anymore. Instead, he let the cries fade out of his mind and he slowly entered his room, closing the door softly behind him. He tried to forget what he saw. He tried to forget the sound of Dick's broken cries. Wally's expression that all but said he didn't know what to do.

But he couldn't.

Tim couldn't get Dick's arms out of his head. His bloody, mutilated arms. Lines and lines of scars -some old and white, whilst others were, _too fresh and still bleeding._

Was this his fault? The Teams? Is this what all those jibes and harsh words had done to Dick? What their ignorance had wrought?

Tim clenched his fists, a few loose tears splashed onto the hardwood floor as his nails dug deep into his skin. It was his fault, and he needed to fix the damage he'd done. Dick was hurting and it was his fault.

He needed to tell Bruce.

* * *

 **Well, here is chapter eight. I don't know why, but I felt unbearably sad while I was writing this, and this chapter isn't even that bad. Did any of you feel this way as well?**

 **This is a longer chapter, and I'm glad it is. I feel as though I rushed some scenes in the others when I kept the chapters shorter. What do you think?**

 **Anyway...any favorite parts? Lines? Quotes? Scenes? Let me know in the comments below.**

 **Also, if there is anything you want to happen in the story, or that you think will happen, leave a comment and I'll see what I can do :)**

 **I think that's it for now so...**

 **Til next time,**

 **Rachel**


	9. In Light Of Things

_"I tell you, on the day of judgment men will render account for every careless word they utter; for by your words you will be justified, and by your words, you will be condemned." (Mat. 12:34-37)_

 _"Hey, Alfred?" A young child, a few months shy of twelve, spoke softly. He was seated at a bar stool, overlooking the kitchen where the elderly man was working, busying himself with the makings of a meatloaf._

 _"Yes, Master Dick?" The butler replied, stopping his work on tonight's dinner. Master Dick had been unusually quiet these last few hours, but Alfred hadn't said anything. He wanted to give the lad enough time to build up the confidence to tell him what was wrong by himself. He'd done that plenty of times when Master Bruce was still young and unwilling to share at the first request. It always seemed to work, eventually._

 _The boy sighed deeply and looked out the window for a moment, resting his head on the counter, eyes cast downward. "I can't stop thinking about what would've been, Alfred." His voice cracked slightly, revealing how much this thought was distressing him. How much it meant to him._

 _Alfred hummed in response, moving over to the sink to wash his hands. He had a bad feeling about where this conversation was headed. Worried about the path his grandson was walking down. He was glad Dick brought it up to him, rather than Master Bruce, however sad that may sound. Bruce probably would have panicked and said the wrong thing, in turn hurting Master Dick. Alfred wasn't trying to trash Master Bruce, but the man had the emotional capacity of a banana, and a bruised one at that._

 _Getting back on track and mentally preparing himself for the conversation ahead, Alfred quickly dried his hands and took a seat on the empty stool next to Dick, thinking quietly for a few minutes, wondering how he was going to word things._

 _"My boy, what could you possibly mean by that?" This was not a time for titles, Alfred decided. Just an old man giving his two-cents to the younger generation. He rested a hand on Dick's shoulder, encouraging him to look towards him and speak. He wanted to let the boy know he was willing to listen._

 _"You know you can tell me anything," Alfred started, "In fact, I won't even tell Master Bruce about this conversation if you don't want me to," he offered. He needed to get the boy started. Once he did, Alfred knew Dick would tell him everything._

 _"I know," Dick sighed once more and wiped under his nose with the back of his hand. "I just can't stop thinking about it," he started, meekly at first, scared. "I mean, what if they hadn't died?" He asked, wringing his hands together tightly, still trying to put his thoughts into words, "Would I still be flying with them in the circus?" He trailed off, losing himself in memories._

 _Jolting back, he waved a hand for reassurance, "Don't get me wrong,_

 _I love it here with you and Bruce, and I can never thank you enough for taking me in, it's just that," he scrunched his face, trying to find a way to say this nicely, "Is it so wrong for me to wish I was still with them?" Small pools of water began to form in his eyes, not yet large enough to fall as tears._

 _Alfred thought for a moment, rubbing circles on Dick's back. He hadn't been prepared for Master Dick to feel this way. He'd always been such a happy child despite the tragedy that brought him here. Alfred could only pray the boy doesn't suffer from any severe depression in the near future. He was not naive enough to hold the belief that depression could be avoided altogether. So instead, he simply hopes it's not severe._

 _"Master Dick, I want you to listen to me very closely, can you do that?" Alfred spoke, finally deciding on what he was going to say._

 _Dick nodded, straightening his back and focusing all his attention onto his Grandfather figure._

 _"There will never be anything wrong with you wishing you were still with them. Master Bruce brought you here and is now trying to fill the roles of both parents, but I know he would never try to replace your father without you saying so. Nor your mother."_

 _Dick nodded and a tear, finally heavy enough, rolled down the side of one cheek, "I know he wouldn't." It hurt him too much to think about replacing them. How could he make his parents proud if he forgot who they were?_

 _"Good," Alfred began again, moving his hands from Dick's back and taking the boy's into his own, "You may feel like this for a while. You'll dream of being back home, at the circus. Of flying across the trapeze, you may even start to forget bits and pieces of them over time," Alfred paused, "It will hurt, and you'll want to cry, you'll want to scream, but make sure you know that there is nothing wrong with missing loved ones that have passed on before us. I know for a fact that Master Bruce misses his parents every day."_

 _He'd forget bits and pieces of them? He would never! He'd always remember his mother's smile and how it reached to the edge of her ears. He'd remember his father's laugh and how he loved helping Dick pull pranks on his mother. He'd never forget, not in a million years would he ever forget._

 _"Bruce does?" Dick questioned, using Bruce as a topic to regain himself slightly._

 _Alfred nodded, "It's why he goes out every night. Deep down, Master Bruce is still that scared young child that saw his parents die, and he goes out every night trying to prevent that from happening to others."_

 _Dick nodded again, "And I help him do it." My Little Robin, she would say._

 _Alfred smiled, "Yes you do Master Dick, and I must say you are the best thing that's ever happened to Master Bruce." He squeezed Dick's hands softly, "But I need you to promise me something," Alfred paused and looked into Dick's eyes, making sure he had the boy's full attention, "If the pain ever gets to be too much, if you don't think you can handle it on your own, come to me. If the pain ever makes you want to harm yourself or others, come to me," he said earnestly. Dick nodded but Alfred knew wasn't getting through to the boy._

 _"Master Dick, I will drop everything to come to your aid, all I need from you is a promise," He paused, "Can you promise me, that if you're ever thinking about hurting yourself, you'll come to me for help?" Alfred almost begged._

 _Dick was silent for a few moments, trying to figure out if he'd ever feel that way anyway. But when he looked to Alfred, into his eyes, they looked so sad. There wasn't anything wrong with Dick, so why would Alfred be so sad, so close to tears. He hadn't even done anything yet._

 _It was then that Dick decided. He would never make himself the reason for Alfred's tears. He wouldn't do the things Alfred said. He wouldn't let the pain beat him._

 _He looked into Alfred's face again, steely resolve showing on his own. He nodded._

 _"I promise."_

* * *

It was another broken promise on Dick's part. He didn't know why the memory hit him so suddenly. Maybe it was just his brain trying to remind him of yet another failure. He'd broken his promise to Alfred, the man he thought of as a Grandfather. How could he do that to him? How could he be so selfish? Family, friends, hell, even his lovers. They all ended in a broken promise.

Dick hadn't really thought of his parents recently, but when he did, he couldn't remember his mother's smile or his father's laugh. He couldn't even remember the warmth of his Mother's hugs, nor the sound of his Father's voice. What kind of son was he? How could he forget the most important things about a person?

It's exactly like Tim said, what everyone said, and now that he thought about it, everyone would probably be better off without him. But he knew thinking like that was wrong. His brain was constantly buzzing in warning, trying to tell him that it wasn't okay. It was hurting and Dick kept ignoring it. How could he ever hope to feel better when his mind was always playing his failures on repeat.

It was pathetic. How would the Team ever accept any of his apologies if he couldn't accept them for himself? Practice what you preach is what he used to tell everyone. But look at him now. Alone and hurting, but unwilling to change or accept help. Pathetic.

Something shuffled next to him, breaking him out of his crushing thoughts. It was Wally. Dick had almost forgotten that Wally had stayed with him after his breakdown last night. His best and only friend at this point, holding and comforting him the whole time. It was something that Dick himself believed he didn't deserve, but for the first time in a long time, he had felt safe.

But Dick felt like a cigarette, always hurting the lives he came into, addicting people to his problems and never leaving them alone. Always wanting more.

Another wouldn't hurt, right?

Nobody ever had the willpower to leave him either. _"This is the last time, Dick, I swear! After this, I never want to see you again!"_ But they always let him come back. He'd throw a half-hearted apology in and everything would be fine. Up until these last few months. But at the end of the day, Dick Grayson was a cigarette. Hell, he was a whole carton of cigarettes, killing the people he loved slowly, one day at a time.

But he had felt safe with Wally. Selfish, wasn't he?

Slowly, Dick sat up in bed, resting his back on the headboard while Wally woke up and maneuvered himself to look at him.

"Morning Dickiebird, how'd you sleep?" He asked, his voice rough from lack of use, a miracle. The only time Wally was ever quiet was when he slept.

Dick chuckled a little, "Well, I slept Wals, but I don't think you'd like to hear about how well it was," he joked, sadly. _I promise, Alfred. I won't let you down._

Wally sat up, focusing on his friend, suddenly serious despite the early hour. "Dick, I want to know. Humor me if you must, but know that I asked with an honest want of knowing," He looked into Dick's eyes, searching for something, "Now Dick, how did you sleep?" He tried again, still smiling softly.

Dick's mouth was agape for all of six seconds, Wally never ceased to amaze him. His friend really did care. "I slept for a few hours, but then I started dreaming about an old promise I made a while ago," He glanced at Wally, who already looked like he was ready to spew out questions, "It's not that big of a deal now, I guess it kind of just hit me by surprise?" Dick squeaked out, voice rising near the end, and shrugged his shoulders, already moving to leave the bed. He was doing his best to act casual.

Even though the memory pained him, Dick was just grateful that he had this to distract Wally away from last night's events. It wasn't something he wanted to talk about and he was too embarrassed to even bring it up.

Wally rolled over and watched as Dick got out of the bed and began his hunt for clean clothes, a question already burning in his mind. "If you don't mind me asking, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but what was the promise?"

Dick made sure he didn't hesitate in his actions as he answered, hoping it would push Wally to believe that it wasn't bothering him as much as it was. "Just a conversation Alfred and I had when I was a bit younger," he began, finally finding a clean shirt, "It was nothing big. Alfred just wanted me to promise that I'd talk to him if I ever needed to." Dick finished, walking towards the bedroom door. He turned around when he made it halfway into the hallway.

"You want to go get some breakfast?"

Wally smiled, getting up, "You sure do know the way to a man's heart don't you? Bribing me with food?" He joked, walking beside Dick as they left the room and made their way down the hall, "I'll let this slide for now, but next time, you better watch out." Wally added lightly, softly chuckling.

* * *

 _"Robin, you are just a human!"_

 _There it was. They had finally said it. He was just a human, a seventeen-year-old. But that didn't make it sting any less. He's been doing this hero gig longer than some members of the League, and they go try to pull the human card on him? What about Batman, Green Arrow, and Artemis? What about them?_

 _"You can't keep running around and recklessly allowing yourself to get hurt!"_

 _Robin's body shook in anger, his friends really weren't pulling any punches today. "It wasn't reckless! I already knew where the bullet would hit. I jumped in front of it to save Artemis!" He yelled back, but the Team just stared at him, no sympathy in their eyes. "I'm going to be fine! This isn't the first time I've been shot, and it certainly won't be the last!" He tried to reason._

 _That only earned him pitiful glances, "That is the point we are trying to make Robin. It won't be the last, and next time, it could be your death." The Team looked at each other and nodded, "It's why we've all decided to bench you."_

 _What?_

 _"Robin, until further notice, you are hereby benched from the Team, permanently."_

 _Tears welled up behind his mask. Dick couldn't believe what his friends were doing. "What about Artemis? If you're benching me because I'm human, then why is she still there?" He argued back, looking towards Artemis who bit her lip and looked down, guilty. Why? They couldn't do this to him. They couldn't take this away from him._

 _Not like Bruce._

 _"Artemis has proven herself to be more capable of preventing injury, which goes to show that she can handle herself without bringing the childlike recklessness that you still seem to posses."_

 _That stung. It hurt like hell. He, who was trained by the Bat, was reckless. It's absurd. It may seem reckless to those less skilled or experienced than him, but it was always calculated. All of it. Recklessness is what got people killed. Like Artemis had almost been tonight. Recklessness is why his parents were dead._

 _Dick felt betrayed, but more than anything, he felt helpless. Unsure of what to do. He was one of the founding members of this Team. He had more experience than all of them combined, and they went behind his back to bench him? Where they really even his friends? Did they even care about how he felt?_

 _"If it wasn't for me, Artemis would be dead right now!" Robin yelled, throwing his hand up to point at her, "And I want you to remember that." He spat, "But you're right, of course, you always are," He looked into their eyes, sneering, "I am too childish, I do tell too many jokes," he continued, his voice laced with venom._

 _"Maybe it is time I grew up."_

* * *

Dick was in his costume for the first time in a few weeks. It felt almost foreign to him now, the bright blue symbol screaming something undeserving at him. He wanted to rip it off, tear the tight spandex and throw it away. Burn it. This name, this costume, _Nightwing,_ has caused more pain and suffering to everyone than it has ever helped. But he had to wear it today. Just today.

His name was announced loudly as he arrived, echoing throughout the large cavern once again. It was almost eerie how similar this situation was compared to the last time he visited the cave. Just like last time, there was no one there to greet him. Just like last time, he would wait and watch as his former friends judged and ridiculed him. Just like last time, no matter what he tried, everything would go wrong.

Nobody knew he was there. He'd managed to sneak out of the manor under the pretense of needing some air in the garden. It wasn't entirely too difficult now that he thought about it. Maybe Bruce let him out. Or maybe Bruce didn't care about Dick enough to worry about where he was going. _Of course he didn't, you're a failure. He never did._

He'd made it to the living area before anyone showed up, and decided to snoop around a bit. His findings only made him feel worse. Nothing had changed since his absence, save for the few photos that he was in were no longer on display. They were really trying to forget him.

Conner was the first to arrive, just like last time, followed closely by M'gann, who floated slightly behind him. That's when Dick began to doubt his plan. Was it really worth it? He could've been gone by now.

Slowly, a few more people began to trickle Kaldur, Artemis, Lagoon Boy, even little Timmy. The newer members popped their heads into the room but quickly left. Not wanting to be around for the shitshow that was about to happen. He couldn't blame them.

It made Dick feel uneasy, how quiet everyone was being. Nobody had said anything yet, and Dick didn't know if they were waiting for him to speak first. How would they react to his apologies? Would he be rejected and not heard again? Anxiety settled into his stomach, leaving a deep pit of uncertainty in his mind.

How was he going to get through this?

"Hey guys," Dick started hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck. It was now or never.

"Nightwing," Conner spoke curtly, taking charge of the conversation, "Why'd you come back here?"

It was awkward for the Team, seeing Nightwing again. They hadn't really planned on talking to him again, and ever since Wally had yelled at them, they'd all been having mixed feelings about the former hero. Were they in the right for pushing all their hatred onto him?

Dick breathed in deeply and let out a nervous breath. "I want a chance to explain, this will be the last time, I promise." Dick hurriedly spoke, "After this, none of you will have to see me again." It wasn't like he was necessarily lying to them. He just wouldn't be seeing anyone after this. _Everyone will be free of you._

Everyone looked at each other, hurt expressions crossing their faces, and whispered to each other. Dick waited patiently, trembling slightly. What would they decide? The last time something like this happened, he got kicked off the Team. Years ago. _You deserved it just as much back then as you do now._

"You have five minutes to explain. After that, you need to leave," Artemis announced after everyone agreed, moving in closer and crossing her arms. "But say anything we don't like, _lie to us,_ and I'll have Superboy throw you out."

Okay. Dick could work with that. Five minutes was plenty of time. Getting kicked out of the cave afterward was something he already expected. But would Conner really do that to him? Would he hurt Dick?

The air in the mountain was heavy, filled with tense anger. No one was sitting, choosing to stand instead, crowding around Nightwing, waiting to hear his excuses. Their friends were dead, nothing he could say would fix that. There was nothing he could do to fix it. Except for one thing. _I'm sorry._

"So," Nightwing began, clapping his hands together, awkwardly, despite the tense atmosphere. He didn't really know what to do with them right now. "I guess I'll just start from the beginning, right? I didn't tell anyone because I needed your emotions to be real." Conner growled and M'gann placed a hand on his shoulder, calming him, but Dick pushed on.

"I know it makes me sound cold, heartless even, but," Dick's voice began to crack, "What I was doing to all of you hurt me more than anything I've ever done." He spoke truthfully. "Out of everything I say tonight, at least believe me when I say that I never wanted to hurt any of you the way I did." Dick looked at Tim, doing his best to make eye contact. That was probably the closest thing to an apology he'd get to tonight.

"Three minutes left, Nightwing," Lagoon Boy sneered. What a waste of time.

Dick frowned, holding back his emotions for now. "For my plan to work, I needed everyone not to question Kaldur going dark. I needed everyone to believe that Artemis was actually dead," He looked to each as he mentioned them. They were all angry, glaring at him. That was the only look Dick ever got from people nowadays. At least he didn't have to live with it much longer.

What he didn't understand was why Kaldur and Artemis weren't helping him with this. Why they hadn't tried defending him when the Team kicked him off. Again. They had agreed to the plan right alongside him. They were just as guilty.

So why was he the only one suffering?

"I understand the need for it to seem real, but you let us believe our friends betrayed and murdered one another! You could have told us before, we could have pretended!" Lagoon Boy yelled out suddenly, always one wanting to be heard. "Maybe if you had, M'gann wouldn't have hurt Kaldur!" He heaved, "Maybe Wally wouldn't have died!"

Dick's breath hitched and he felt helpless inside. They weren't listening. They weren't understanding. They were so caught up in what they wanted to believe, that no matter what Dick said, nothing would change. It frustrated him, everything he was trying to do was pointless.

"I couldn't though!" He yelled, shocking his audience. They'd never heard Nightwing yell like that before. Not even during the argument he had with Batman after he found out that Jason had died.

"We were up against fucking Deathstroke!" Dick seethed, voice cracking in anger, "What did you expect me to do? I certainly didn't see any of you coming up with a plan!" He waved his hands wildly, "That man has been in my life since I started out as Robin! He knows me well enough to know when I'm planning something! I had to make it realistic!" Nightwing tried to reason. He had no other choice. Slade could read him like a book. "I had to make it believable," he whispered near the end. Losing his anger with everyone and instead, directing it at himself. _They don't care._

"Then you should have told us about him," Conner interjected, "We've fought him before, Nightwing, we could've figured something out. You didn't have to pull a Batman on us!" He yelled at Dick, stomping forward to get into his face.

It was then, when he'd been compared to Batman, that something broke inside Dick. He was just done. _They don't understand._

"Conner, It's wasn't that simple," Dick tried, small tears forming behind his mask, but he could tell the clone wasn't listening anymore, "Please just-" He was abruptly interrupted as a hand grabbed at the collar of his suit.

"Con-"

"Shut up!" Conner growled, lifting Dick up so his feet hovered off the ground. Instinctively, Dick's hands came to rest on Conner's arms, trying to pull the clone off, but to no avail.

"Conner! What are you doing?" M'gann shouted, rushing forward, "You're hurting him!"

Everyone was shocked. They hadn't expected Superboy to attack Nightwing.

"Stay back, M'gann." Superboy spoke lowly, "I have a few things to say to Nightwing."

Nightwing looked back towards the Team that stood hidden behind Conner for help, surprised that the clone was going this far, but no one could meet his eye. M'gann had retreated to her earlier spot, guilt crossing her face. Tim's mouth was agape, as though he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. His brother had abandoned him.

Dick trembled inside. This whole thing was a bad idea. Why did he even bother coming here? He knew when he wasn't wanted. Why did he try to seek their forgiveness? Why? Things were always better when he didn't intervene. _You had to try._

Dick looked back into Conner's eyes and saw a burning fire of hate and rage, all of it, directed right at him. He needed help. Nightwing searched through his former friends, his eyes falling on Kaldur. Surely the man wouldn't let things continue like this?

"Kaldur, please," Dick pleaded, voice sounding rough from the tight grip on his collar.

His long-time friend just shook his head, "I'm sorry my friend, I am afraid I cannot help you," he finished, a sad tone in his voice. "It is not my place."

Dick wanted to scream. There was nothing stopping Kaldur from helping him! All he had to do was yell at Conner. Why wasn't he helping Dick? Why was nobody helping Dick? They had to at least see that the clone was going too far.

Tim. Maybe Timmy would help him? His little brother had to care about him. Even after everything Dick did, his little brother had to care. He had too. _But he doesn't._

"Timmy," Nightwing squirmed in his friend's grip, begging, but Conner only tightened it, raising him up further.

"Don't talk to him," the clone growled, Sparing a glance back to Tim as he spoke to Nightwing, "You've already caused enough damage."

Nightwing let out a strange gurgle and squirmed more desperately than before.

Tim didn't know what to do. He knew he should be helping his brother, especially after what he'd caused, but how? Conner was immensely stronger than him, there wasn't anything he could do. But he did try, "Con, come on," Tim interrupted, "That's enough. Put him down."

Conner whipped his head around to face Tim, his grip not letting up on Nightwing, whose face had turned an unhealthy shade of red. "You, out of everyone here," he waved his free hand to gesture at everyone else, "Should be hurting the most. Do you even remember what we talked about?" He questioned angrily.

"Of course I do," Tim cried back, "But he's my brother, Con, he's family. He deserves another chance."

Lagoon Boy butted in again, "Tim please just let Conner finish. He deserves to say his piece to Nightwing, just like everyone else had their chance to."

Tim pushed him away, "But this isn't talking," he shouted, "It's bullying! You're fucking chocking him, Con, and I won't be part of it anymore." He began to walk towards the zeta tubes, "I'm getting Batman."

He left, Dick thought. Tim just left the mountain. He left to go get Bruce. That wasn't part of his plan. This was bad. Bruce wasn't supposed to know Dick came here. But he needed help.

Would Conner kill him?

His vision was starting to get hazy.

Would Conner kill him?

"This is why you shouldn't be here Nightwing," Conner broke the silence, "You're poison, ruining friendships, hurting people." Conner's hand crept up his throat, further crushing Dick's windpipe, forcing him to take small gasps for air.

"No matter how much you'd like to believe that you and Bruce are different, Richard Grayson," he hissed, pointing a finger harshly in Dick's face, "You're exactly the same, inside and out."

"You turned into the man you swore you'd never be."

* * *

 _"When I'm older, I want to be just like you!" A little Robin, only ten, yelled excitedly at Bruce, bouncing around the batcave after an easy night of crime-fighting. He'd finally been allowed to fight Two-Face, and the adult had been surprised by his small attacker._

 _"Oh really," Bruce said with a smile, sitting down to write up the reports, "And why is that?" He questioned, eyes tracking the boy as he flung himself around the Cave. He'd have to remind Alfred to child-proof some of the sharper stalagmites._

 _Dick cartwheeled to a stop, hopping onto Bruce's shoulders and laying his small arms on his head, "Because you're strong and brave!" He chirped, smiling brightly, "I wish I could always be brave like you. Nothing scares the Batman!" Dick giggled, patting Bruce's head._

 _But something does, Bruce thought to himself. Losing Dick, losing his son, scares the Batman more than anything. "You're right Dickie, nothing scares Batman, but Bruce gets scared all the time." Scared of losing the boy that made his whole crusade worth it._

 _Dick paused, stilling himself on Bruce's shoulders, surprised, "What are you scared of?" He questioned, playing with a strand of Bruce's hair while he waited for the man to respond. It hadn't taken him long to learn that Bruce didn't like to talk much._

 _"Losing you Dickie, That's what I'm scared of," Bruce sighed, putting down his pen and pushing aside the half-filled out report. It could wait until tomorrow._

 _"But why?" Dick asked honestly, bending over Bruce's head to look him in the eyes. "I'm not going anywhere. You're not sending me anywhere, are you Bruce?"_

 _"Of course not Dickie," Bruce patted his leg, "You're not going anywhere," he paused, a sly grin crept across his face, "Except to bed!" He roared, grabbing Dick from his shoulders and trapping him in his arms._

 _Dick squealed with laughter, squirming and twisting in Bruce's arms, trying to break free, "No Bruce! I'm not tired yet!" He giggled._

 _Bruce laughed, making his way up the Batcave stairs as Dick continued to squirm. "Don't make me do it," he threatened, smirking again as he adjusted his grip to Dick's constant movement, not wanting to drop the boy._

 _"Do what?" Dick paused momentarily, giving Bruce his chance to strike, quick and brutal._

 _"This!"_

 _Dick roared with laughter as Bruce's fingers assaulted his sides, tickling him with no mercy. His ribs heaved as he laughed, forcing him to beg for Bruce to stop._

 _"Please!" he giggled, "Stop!"_

 _"Dad, please!"_

* * *

 **Boom. I did it. After way too long, a new chapter has appeared.**

 **It's a miracle.**

 **What did you think? Leave a comment! If you had a favorite part, leave a comment! Honestly, just comment. lol.**

 **Til next time,**

 **Rachel**

 **PS, I know, shit escalated quickly.**


End file.
